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Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 


HIS    QTlTAlSrDARY, 


AND  HOW  IT  CAME  OUT. 


By    ANDREW    S  HUM  AN, 

EDITOR    CHICAGO    EVENING    JOURNAL. 


CHICAGO: 

W.    B.    KEEN,    COOKE    cS:    CO. 

113  AND  115  State  Street. 

1875- 


COPYRIGHT. 

W.    B.    KEEN,    COOKE   &   CO. 

A.    D.    1875. 


LOAN  STACK 
GIFT 

THK   LAKESIDE   PRESS,   CHICAGO. 


PS  BS^I 


The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 


5^9 


^ 


CONTENTS. 


Introductory, 9 

The  Beginning  of  It, 13 

In  the  Lawyer's  Office, 27 

Unexpected  Departure, •    •    33 

A  Client, 41 

A  Professional  Trip 49 

Moonlight  Meditations, 63 

A  Woman's  Judgment,     .     .     , 67 

An  Old  Chum's    Advice, 85 

A  Rival,       91 

Friendship,  Love  and  Jealousy, 99 

In  the  Country,      iii 

Cross-Purposes, 127 

A  Friend's  Mystery, 137 

An  Ordeal,      145 

A  Revelation, 153 

In  the  Great  City,    . 163 

A  Double  Wedding, 171 

The  Fair  Week,       181 

A  Death-Bed  Request, 189 

The  Old  Love, 195 

The  Conclusion, 209 


INTRODUCTORY. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


jTLJE  was  an  elderly  gentleman,  the  Judge 
CjiJ^-y  was,  with  a  profusion  of  gray  hair,  as  soft 
and  smooth  as  silk,  and  a  face  as  kindly  as  that 
of  a  young  girl.  I  chanced  to  meet  him  in  a 
railway  car,  we  being  fellow-travelers,  homeward 
bound,  on  the  long  journey  from  San  Francisco, 
eastward.  We  occupied  adjoining  seats,  took 
pleasantly  to  each  other,  and  whiled  away  much 
of  the  tedium  of  those  five  days,  coming  through 
the  great  mountains  and  the  vast  plains,  in  free- 
and-easy  conversation.  After  almost  every  topic 
of  current  news,  politics,  literature,  science  and 
philosophy  had  been  exhausted,  we  made  drafts 
upon  our  funds  of  anecdote,  and  finally,  as  a  last 


lO  Introductory, 

resort,  entertained  each  other  with  incidents  and 
experiences  from  our  own  life-history. 

The  Judge  was  one  of  the  most  sociable  and 
entertaining  men  I  had  ever  met  in  my  life,  and 
never  will  I  forget  the  deep  feeling  he  exhibited 
at  certain  pathetic  periods  when  relating  the  fol- 
lowing story,  which  he  appropriately  called 

"my  great  quandary." 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  IT. 


THE 

LOVES  OF  A  LAWYER. 


CHAPTER  1 

THE    BEGINNING    OF    IT. 

"X'^Tjf^THEN  I  was  a  young  man  —  which  is 
^3^^  many  years  ago  —  I  was  a  boarder  in  a 
family  of  three.  Those  three  were  a  motherly 
widow,  her  daughter  and  a  niece,  the  two 
latter  of  whom  were  but  a  few  years  younger 
than  I.  They  were  good  folk — cultivated,  pleas- 
ing, companionable.  I  had  but  recently  gradu- 
ated from  college,  and,  being  homeless,  chanced 
to  make  my  headquarters  with  the  good  widow, 


14  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

who  insisted  upon  my  calling  her  mother  —  and 
certain  it  is  that  no  mother  could  be  more  studi- 
ous of  the  comfort,  or  more  interested  in  the 
welfare,  of  a  son  than  she  was  in  my  behalf.  It 
was  a  home,  indeed,  and  she  was  as  motherly  as 
possible,  and  her  two  young  ladies  were  as  sis- 
terly as  possible.  I  became  very  fond  of  them. 
They  were  my  companions  in  the  drawing-room 
in  the  evening,  and  I  was  their  inevitable  escort 
to  parties,  balls,  lectures,  amusements.  They 
had  other  associates  in  the  society  of  the  town, 
and  so  had  I,  but  somehow  a  marked  preference 
for  each  others  society  in  time  developed  itself, 
continued  to  grow,  and  was  mutually  confessed. 
It  wasn't  love — I  think  not;  at  all  events  we 
did  not  act  as  lovers  do,  nor  did  I  entertain  a 
lover's  emotions,  dreams  or  anticipations.  I  was 
just  entering  actively  upon  my  chosen  life-work 
— a  profession  to  which  I  devoted  all  the  energy 
and  devotion  of  my  youthful  ardor  and  ambi- 
tion ;  and  the  thought  of  love,  courtship  or  mar- 
riage seldom  found   lodgment  with  me.     They 


The  Beginning  of  It,  15 

called  themselves  my  sisters,  as  the  old  lady, 
(not  very  old,  either,)  called  herself  my  mother, 
and  I  felt  like  a  brother  toward  the  maidens. 
And  that  was  the  extent  of  my  thoughts  and 
feelings,  and  I  never  suspected  that  theirs  par- 
took of  a  more  tender  character. 

The  widow's  name  was  Wilkins  —  Mrs.  Jane 
Wilkins,  the  relict  of  Mr.  Thomas  Wilkins,  mer- 
chant, who  had  beer,  dead  ten  years  when  I 
became  a  member  of  her  domestic  circle.  Her 
daughter's  name  was  Frances  —  Miss  Frances 
Wilkins,  aged  twenty-two,  of  quiet,  reserved,  and 
dignified  demeanor  ;•  womanly,  majestic,  and 
accomplished  in  all  that  renders  a  young  lady 
attractive  to  a  young  man  of  elevated  ideas. 
The  niece's  name  was  Laura — Miss  Laura  Fer- 
ris, an  orphan,  aged  twenty,  whose  parents  were 
suddenly  snatched  from  her,  an  only  child,  dur- 
ing the  last  visitation  of  the  cholera.  Her  father 
had  been  a  man  of  wealth,  and  she  inherited  it. 
She  was  unlike  her  cousin  in  appearance  and 
disposition,  and  yet  like  her  in  taste  and  refine- 


1 6  The  Loves  of  a  Lazvyer, 

ment.  Frances  was  sedate,  Laura  sprightly; 
Frances  was  a  brunette,  with  large  dark  eyes  and 
a  profusion  of  dark  brown  hair,  and  tall  and 
stately  as  a  queen,  while  Laura  had  deep  blue 
eyes,  auburn  curls,  and  was  short  and  compact 
of  form.  Although  thus  unlike,  yet  they  har- 
monized as  companions,  and  had  they  been  sis- 
ters, could  not  have  been  more  devoted  to  each 
other.  It  was  a  harmonious  family,  and  I  failed 
to  discover  that  my  entrance  into  it  marred  its 
unity  or  disturbed  its  equanimity.  The  only 
effect  seemed  to  be  its  enlargement  from  an 
accordant  trio  to  a  joyous  quartette. 

Three  years  had  passed  since  I  had  become  a 
member  of  Mrs.  Wilkins'  household,  when,  one 
evening,  while  sitting  alone  with  her  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, she  suddenly  diverted  the  conversa- 
tion from  the  topic  in  hand  to  myself  and  my 
future. 

"Samuel,  my  son,"  she  said,  in  her  usual 
motherly  way,  "  do  you  realize  the  fact  that  you 


The  Beginning  of  It.  17 

are  approaching  thirty,  and  will  soon  be  classed 
among  the  old  bachelors  ?" 

"Yes,  mother,  yes,"  I  replied,  "  I  am  aware  of 
that,  but  who  would  call  me  an  old  bachelor?  I 
am  still  a  mere  boy,  and  am  just  beginning  to 
get  a  good  start  in  my  profession.  Can't  think 
of  marrying;  not  yet,  if  ever  at  all." 

"There  you  w.ll  make  a  great  mistake,"  she 
said ;  "  the  longer  you  put  it  off,  the  more  con- 
firmed a  bachelor  you  will  become.  A  man  like 
you  should  marry,  by  all  means." 

*'  But  who  would  marry  me  V  I  asked. 

"  Almost  any  good  girl  in  the  city ;  they  all 
know  you,  and  they  all  like  you." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  but  I  do  know  that 
I  have  not  given  a  thought  to  the  subject." 

"  It  is  time  you  did ;  let  me  tell  you  that  as  a 
friend."  And  then,  hesitating  a  moment,  she 
resumed,  with  much  seriousness :  "  Do  you 
know  that  either  of  my  two  girls  here,  whom  you 
call  sisters,  would  make  you  a  most  excellent 
wife  .'^  Have  you  ever  thought  of  that.?" 
2 


1 8  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

Here  was  a  puzzler,  and  I  instantly  divined 
the  good  woman's  object  in  opening  this  conver- 
sation. 

"  I  have  never  thought  of  either  of  them  in 
that  connection,"  I  repHed;  "they  are  worthy 
to  be  the  wives  of  the  greatest  and  best  men  in 
the  world,  but  I  am  only  a  poor  young  lawyer, 
who  has  a  name  and  a  fortune  yet  to  make.  I 
could  not  ask  either  of  them  to  sacrifice  herself 
for  my  sake;  it  would  be  presumptuous  in  me  to 
ask  or  expect  it." 

'  You  are  all  wrong,  Samuel,  all  wrong,  I 
assure  you.  Oh,  I  wish  you  knew  as  well  as  I 
do,  how  much  those  girls  think  of  you  I  But 
now  let  me  ask  you  one  question ;  you  may 
answer  it  or  not,  as  you  choose;  all  I  require  is 
frankness  on  your  part." 

''Well,  certainly." 

*' Which  of  those  girls  do  you  love  best.'*" 

"Upon  my  word,  I  can't  answer  you  that;  I 
don't  know.  They  are  excellent  young  women, 
both  of  them." 


The  Begimting  of  It,  19 

"Well,  now,  Samuel,"  said  she,  warming  up, 
"you  must  have  a  preference  for  one  or  the 
other;  one  who  sees  so  much  of  them  and 
knows  them  as  well  as  you  do,  must  be  able  to 
decide  which  is  the  better  of  the  two,  and  which 
would  make  the  better  wife  for  you,  if  you  were 
to  choose  between  them." 

"If  marrying  is  the  question,  I  think  if  I  were 
to  consider  that,  with  a  view  of  arriving  at  a 
decision,  I  would  have  to  conclude  to  marry 
them  both,"  I  rejoined,  laughing. 

"  Nonsense!"  she  exclaimed,  and  was  about  to 
leave  the  room,  when  a  thought  seemed  to  occur 
to  her  suddenly,  and  approaching  my  chair,  she 
said,  in  a  half-whisper:  "Those  two  girls  love 
you,  Samuel,  and  let  me  tell  you,  in  confidence, 
that  they  are  about  to  test  you.  They  have  made 
an  agreement  between  them  to  ascertain,  by  a 
process  that  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  divulge,  which 
of  them  you  love  best.  My  object  in  telling  you 
the  secret  is  to  warn  you  so  that  you  may  be 
prepared  for  the  ordeal,  and  so  that  you  may,  if 


20  Tlie  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

you  feel  so  disposed,  analyze  your  own  feelings 
sufficiently  to  decide  a  question  which,  after  this 
evening's  conversation  with  you,  I  am  convinced* 
you  are  not  now  prepared  for.'* 

With  that  she  withdrew.  That  which  she  told 
me  made  me  uneasy,  nervous,  fearful.  Love, 
with  a  view  of  marriage,  was  to  me  a  new  theme 
of  thought ;  and  yet  the  good  madam's  conver- 
sation and  her  warning  of  the  young  ladies'  test- 
plct  convinced  me  that  her  motherly  interest 
and  their  sisterly  regard  had  assumed  a  more 
serious  sentiment  than  that  of  mere  friendship, 
and  that  I  really  occupied  a  very  delicate  and 
trying  position  in  this  goodly  household  ;  a  posi- 
tion for  which  I  was  not  prepared ;  one  which 
might  cause  me  great  embarrassment,  and,  what 
was  worse,  might  cause  those  to  whom  I  was  so 
warmly  but  disinterestedly  attached,  disappoint- 
ment and  grief.  The  thought  troubled  me,  and 
the  fact  that  the  young  ladies,  on  that  particular 
evening,  kept  their  own  rooms,  not  joining  me 
in  the  drawing-room,  as  was  their  usual  evening 


TJlc  Beginning  of  It,  21 

custom,  only  contributed  to  my  increasing  anx- 
iety. "  Which  of  them  ao  I  love  best?"  I  asked 
myself.  And  the  answer  came  :  "  They  are  dear 
creatures,  boih^  and  if  I  really  love  them,  I 
esteem  them  both  alike."  And  this  was  the 
conclusion  of  the  half-revery,  half-argument, 
which,  while  sitting  there  silently  and  alone, 
occupied  my  mind  during  the  remainder  of  the 
evening,  and  I  finally  retired  to  lose  myself  and 
forget  my  puzzling  problem  and  its  subjects  in 
sleep. 

Next  morning  Frances  ,and  Laura,  who  at 
breakfast  seemed  less  talkative  than  usual,  sud- 
denly came  upon  me  in  the  hall-way,  as  I  was 
about  leaving  for  my  office,  the  former  as  sedate 
as  usual,  and  the  latter  as  sprightly  as  ever,  and 
desired  me  to  tarry  a  few  moments — they  had  a 
favor  to  ask  of  me. 

"I'll  grant  it  before  you  ask  it,"  I  promptly 
replied ;   "  now,  what  is  it .?" 

Laura  was  to  make  the  speech,  and  she  did  it 
bravely.     "Samuel,"   she  said,   "either  Frances 


22  TJie  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

or  I  will  have  to  go  to  grandmother's  to  stay  a 
few  months,  to  be  company  for  her  in  her  lonely 
home  in  the  country;  it  is  over  an  hundred  miles 
away,  you  know;  neither  of  us  wants  to  go  away 
from  home  so  long,  and  we  have  agreed  to  ask 
you  to  decide  the  question  which  of  us  shall  go, 
and  to  abide  by  your  decision  without  a  mur- 
mur." 

"Why  don't  you  draw  lots?  That  would  be  a 
speedy  method,  and  save  me  from  a  disagreeable 
responsibility,  for  indeed  I  cannot  decide  be- 
tween you."  • 

But  they  insisted,  and  declared  that  I  must 
decide.  "  If  you  don't,  I  will  never  forgive 
you,"  said  Laura.  '^  If  you  don't,"  said  Frances, 
"  I  will  never  call  you  brother  again." 

"Well,  now,  girls,"  I  replied,  "I  object  to 
either  of  you  going  away;  I  decide  that  both 
of  you  shall  stay  at  home." 

"  No,  no,  that  can  not  be,"  they  declared,  in 
chorus. 

"  If  you  wait  for  me  to  decide  that   either  of 


TJie  Beginning  of  It,  23 

you   shall  go,  neither  of  you  will  go ;  that's  set- 
tled," I  said,  very  firmly. 

Seeing  that  I  was  in  earnest,  they  dismissed 
the  subject  laughingly,  but  were  evidently  disap- 
pointed. They  did  not  suspect  that  I  had  been 
warned  of  their  game.  As  I  was  leaving  the 
house,  and  just  before  closing  the  door  behind 
me,  I  chanced  to  hear  Frances,  addressing  her 
mother,  exclami :  "  It  was  a  failure  ;  he  wouldn't 
■decide,  and  we  can't  induce  him  to.  We  must 
try  some  other  device/' 


.r^    ^^^ 


^^'"^  ^t^^'-^^^^'^^^sf^^.Sii:^ 


IN  THE  LAWYER'S  OFFICE. 


CHAPTER  II. 


IN    THE    LAWYER  S    OFFICE. 


;  AMUEL  TRAVERSE,  Attorney-at-Law." 
2^1^  Those  were  the  simple  words  that  marked 
my  office  door  in  Barrister's  Row,  in  the  city  of 
Westerly.  This  was  my  professional  workshop; 
here  I  daily  busied  myself  in  the  books  of  the 
great  legal  philosophers  and  commentators; 
here  I  studied,  labored,  waited  and  hoped ;  here, 
day  by  day,  I  sat  and  pondered  and  dreamed. 
Occasionally  a  client  chanced  to  drop  in  for 
advice,  and  once  in  a  great  while  even  a  party  to 
a  small  suit  came  in  to  engage  my  services  as 
counsel.  But  the  first  few  years  passed  slowly 
and  heavily,  and  sometimes  I  seriously  enter- 
tained a  thought  of  removing  from  the  town  and 


28  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

seeking  a  more  favorable  field  in  which  to  prac- 
tice my  profession.  Here  older  lawyers  had  a 
monopoly,  and  I  would  have  to  wait  on  and  strug- 
gle on  for  years  in  poverty  arid  impatience  before 
I  could  hope  to  accomplish  anything.  To  an 
ambitious  young  man,  who  was  conscious  of  his 
ability  to  cope  successfully  with  other  men  in  the 
profession,  if  he  could  but  get  a  fair  start  and 
have  a  fair  chance,  this  situation  was  becoming 
discouraging,  especially  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
three  years  had  now  dragged  themselves  over  my 
head  since  that  sign  had  been  nailed  upon  my 
office  door,  and  that  as  yet  but  few  clients,  and 
those  poor,  petty  ones,  and  but  little  business, 
and  that  bringing  a  mere  pittance  in  the  way 
of  fee  or  reward,  had  come  to  me. 

"/ fall  in  love  ?  /  think  of  marrying?  Poor 
as  a  beggar,  and  no  prospect  ahead  ;  what  could 
/  do  with  a  wife?  Absurd!"  It  was  thus  I 
reasoned  with  myself  as  I  sat  in  my  office,  alone, 
as  usual,  thinking  of  that  morning's  scene  with 
the  young    ladies  at  Mrs.   Wilkins'.     "  As   well 


In  the  Lazvyer  s  Office,  29 

think  of  flying  into  heaven  bodily  as  to  think  of 
marrying,  under  present  circumstances."  And  I 
dismissed  the  subject  summarily  from  my  mind, 
or  at  least  tried  to.  Not  an  easy  matter.  In 
spite  of  my  efforts  to  concentrate,  my  thoughts 
upon  the  pages  of  my  law-books;  the  treatises 
on  Pleadings,  Practice,  Evidence,  and  the  Com- 
mon Law,  by  the  great  teachers  and  expounders 
of  the  profession ;  in  spite  of  my  resolute  en- 
deavors to  master  certain  provisions  of  the  Code; 
in  spite  of  my  efforts,  with  the  statute-books 
open  before  me,  to  disentangle  a  knotty  case  that 
a  poor  tenant  who  was  being  oppressed  by  a 
merciless  landlord  intrusted  to  me  on  the  day 
before,  he  agreeing  to  call  this  afternoon  to  learn 
my  advice;  in  spite  of  all  resolution  and  circum- 
stance, those  young  ladies  at  Mrs.  Wilkins'  would 
intrude  themselves  upon  my  thoughts,  mingling 
their  bright  eyes,  sweet  faces  and  musical  voices 
with  the  profound  propositions  of  the  legal  com- 
mentators in  the  books,  and  with  the  intricate 
verbiage  of  legislative  enactments  on  "  Landlord 


30 


The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 


and  Tenant;"  and  I  must  confess  that  had  the 
ingredients  of  my  mentality  been  carefully  ana- 
lyzed and  weighed  on  that  day,  the  analyzer  and 
weigher  would  have  decided  that  there  were  at 
least  three  parts  of  Woman  to  one  part  of  Law 
in  that  uncontrollable  confusion  of  mind  and 
that  chaos  of  irresolution  and  quandary. 


UNEXPECTED  DEPARTURE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

UNEXPECTED    DEPARTURE. 


C2^ 


WAS  sitting  alone  in  Mrs.  Wilkins'  drawing- 
(^  room.  It  was  a  quiet,  lovely  summer  even- 
ing. Presently  the  madam  came  in.  "  Samuel," 
said  she,  "  Laura  has  gone  to  her  grandmother's ; 
left  this  afternoon.  The  girls  felt  very  badly 
when  you  refused  to  decide  w^hich  of  them 
should  go,  and  I  was  sorry  I  had  warned  you  of 
their  intended  test  of  your  preference.  Although 
it  was  a  device  by  which  they  thought  to  compel 
you  unconsciously  to  indicate  your  preference 
for  one  or  the  other  of  them,  yet  the  fact  that 
they  felt  it  a  duty  that  one  or  the  other  of  them 
should  go  and  spend  a  few  months  with  their 
grandmother,  w^as  no  ruse.  My  girls  are  incapa- 
pable  of  deception,  my  son;  that  you  know." 
3 


34  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

"  Well,  now,  mother,  if  I  had  decided  which 
of  them  should  go,  what  would  have  been  the 
effect  as  regards  my  supposed  preference  be- 
tween them — would  the  one  that  was  to  go  or  ^ 
the  one  that  was  to  stay  have  been  considered 
my  favorite?" 

"It  is  not  likely,"  she  replied,  "that  one 
would  voluntarily  separate  himself  from  the  one 
he  loves,  is  it?" 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  see.  And  so  Laura  has  gone  ? 
And  without  bidding  me  good-bye?" 

"Both  the  girls  have  concluded  that  you  don't 
love  either  of  them.  I  think  they  are  mistaken, 
but  that  is  their  inference." 

"They  certainly  are  mistaken,"  I  said,  "but, 
for  the  life  of  me,  I  cannot  decide  that  I  love 
one  more  than  the  other.  At  all  events,  it 
wouldn't  make -any  difference,  for,  to  tell  the 
plain  truth,  I  cannot  afford  to  love  anybody  very 
ardently.  I 'am  too  poor  to  marry;  I  see  too 
long  and  desperate  a  professional  struggle  before 
me  to  allow  myself  to  think  of  such  a  thing." 


Unexpected  Departure,  35 

"Two  can  fight  a  battle  better  than  one,  my 
son,  especially  the  battle  of  life ;  be  assured 
of  that." 

"Yes,  but  if  both  are  poor  as  beggars?" 

"  In  the  case  of  either  Frances  or  Laura,  this 
would  not  be  so ;  neither  of  them  is  either  poor 
or  in  immediate  danger  of  penury.  Their 
fathers  made  ample  provision  for  them." 

"  If  I  ever  marry,"  I  remarked,  "  it  will  not  be 
until  I  shall  have  the  means  in  my  possession  to 
support  a  wife  independently  of  her  own  property. 
What  she  might  have  would  be  hers;  I  could 
not  be  dependent  upon  her  wealth  for  our  joint 
maintenance." 

"In  this  you  talk  like  a  boy,  my  son,"  she 
said,  energetically ;  "  you  may  depend  upon  it 
that  the  woman  who  loves  you,  and  is  willing  to 
join  life's  fortunes  and  destinies  with  yours,  has 
nothing  that  she  would  not  have  you  share  with 
her ;  yes,  not  only  share,  but  own,  control  and 
possess.     What  belongs  to  a  true  woman,  who 


36  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

marries  a  true  man,  is  his,  with  all  her  heart; 
don't  doubt  that." 

And  the  madam  left  the  room,  her  daughter 
Frances  entering  as  she  left.  ^ 

"Oh,  Samuel,"  said  the  young  lady,  taking  my 
hand,  "  Laura  has  gone,  and  I  feel  so  lonesome 
that  I  do  not  know  what  to  do  or  whither  to 
turn." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  I  ought  to  have  decreed  you 
into  exile  the  other  morning." 

"Would  you,  then,  have  so  decided  had  you 
accepted  our  proposition  .^  Would  you  have  sent 
me  away  .f^" 

"  I  did  not  say  that.  No,  no  ;  I  was  not  pre- 
pared for  that  ordeal ;  but  I  am  sorry  Laura  has 
left  without  saying  good-bye  to  me." 

"  You  love  Laura  better  than  you  do  me,  then, 
do  you.^" 

"  No,  I  do  not." 

Frances  blushed  and  looked  steadily  into  my 
eyes  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,  in  measured 
words : 


Unexpected  Departure,  37 

"  Samuel,  Laura  Ferris  is  a  precious  good  girl, 
and  you  could  never  find  a  worthier  object  of 
your  love  than  she  is." 

"  Frances,"  I  said,  imitating  her  sober,  meas- 
ured enunciation,  "  that  is  very  true,  but  you, 
too,  are  a  precious  good  girl,  and  no  man,  be  he 
ever  so  good,  will  ever  find  a  worthier  object  of 
his  love  than  you." 

"  You  are  bound  to  turn  everything  serious 
into  ridicule,  Sam,"  she  said,  "and  I  confess  I 
don't  know  how  to  take  you.  You  are  an 
enigma."  And  she  left  the  room,  and  I  was  once 
more  alone  with  my  thoughts. 

**  A  noble  young  woman  is  Frances  Wilkins ; 
and  what  a  queenly  wife  she  would  be  for  a 
good  and  true  man!"  This  was  the  Avhispered 
thought  of  my  soul  when,  shortly  afterward,  I 
took  my  hat  and  left  the  house  for  a  lonely  stroll 
in  the  park.  "  I  think  much  of  her,  but  do  I 
love  her,  and  does  she  love  me  ?"  I  asked  myself, 
as  I  walked  along,  moodily.     "And  yet  Laura, 


38  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

also,  is  a  very  lovely  girl,  and  more  vivacious, 
and  apparently  has  more  heart  than  Frances."     •< 

I  must  confess  the  truth,  that  unconsciously  I 
found  myself  actually  debating,  in  my  own 
thoughts,  the  comparitive  merits  of  my  two  sis- 
terly friends,  and  the  more  I  debated,  the  less 
able  I  was  to  form  a  defini^te  opinion  as  to  which 
of  them  I  loved  best,  or,  rather,  which  of  them, 
if  either,  I  would  choose  for  a  wife.  I  gradually 
became  involved  in  an  inextricable  quandary, 
which,  from  that  indecisive  evening,  grew  more 
and  more  troublesome  to  me.  I  felt  that  I  loved 
them  both,  but  could  not  decide  which  of  them 
I  loved  the  most. 


A  CLIENT. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    CLIENT. 

JHINGS  come  out  very  queerly  sometimes. 
One  morning,  several  days  after  the  events 
recorded  in  the  foregoing  chapter  an  elderly 
gentleman  came  into  my  office. 

"  Is  Mr.  Traverse,  the  lawyer,  in  ?" 
"I  am  that  man,"  I  modestly  responded. 
I  was  entirely  alone,  and  had  just  finished 
writing  out  my  points  in  the  case  of  the  Landlord 
vs.  Tenant,  in  which  I  had  been  retained  by  the 
poor  fellow  who  was  in  the  clutches  of  an  uncon- 
scionable old  shark,  who  was  oppressing  him 
beyond  reason  or  justice.  Let  me  say  here, 
before  I  forget  it,  that,  by  my  assistance,  the 
poor  tenant  won  his  case  the  next  day. 


42  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

"You're  the  man,   eh?"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man.    "Younger  man    than  I   thought  to  find, •• 
and  yet  I  am  told  you  will  give  me  honest  and 
safe  advice." 

"  I  never  give  any  but  honest  professional 
advice,"  I  replied;  "but  as  to  its  safety,  that, 
perhaps,  is  another  matter.  We  have  to  take 
the  chances  on  that  sometimes." 

"Ah!  I  see;  I  see,"  said  he,  taking  a  very 
sharp  look  at  me  from  under  his  old-fashioned 
spectacles. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  presently,  "I  have  an 
honest  case,  and  all  I  ask  is  honest  counsel. 
You  are  well  up  in  the  laws  of  the  state,  I  sup- 
pose, and  if  you  are,  that's  all  I  ask.  The  ques- 
tion is  a  simple  one  of  equity  and  justice;  a 
question  of  trespass.  I  own  a  large  farm  down 
in  Trowbridge  township,  county  of  Winston,  and 
my  cattle  broke  through  the  fence  into  my 
neighbor's  wheat-field,  in  the  night-time.  I  am 
willing  to  pay  him  for  actual  damage  done,  but 
he  is  not  satisfied  with  reason,  and  demands  four 


A   Client.  43 

times  the  amount  that's  just.  This  is  the  case. 
Will  you  undertake  to  advise  me,  and,  in  the 
event  of  a  suit  at  law,  will  you  conduct  the  case 
for  me  in  court  ?  And  do  you-  think  you  can 
prevent  his  recovering  from  me  more  than  just 
damages  ?" 

"  I  can  promise  you,  sir,  that  I  will  do  my  very 
best.  Your  aggrieved  neighbor  cannot,  by  any 
possibility,  recover  from  you  more  than  just 
damages,  based  upon  a  careful  and  reasonable 
estimate  of  the  actual  value  of  the  property 
injured  or  destroyed." 

"  That's  how  it  strikes  me,"  rejoined  the  old 
gentleman;  "all  I  want  is  justice  and  reason, 
and  you  talk  just  as  I  think  about  it.  Now,  I 
want  you  to  come  to  my  farm,  down  in  Trow- 
bridge, and  look  the  ground  over,  see  the  cattle, 
the  fence,  and  the  wheat-field,  and  then  look  up 
the  law,  and  advise  me,  honest  and  fair,  what  I 
ought  to  do." 

"  I  will  do  that,  certainly,  if  you  desire  it,  and 
yet  I  am  entirely  unacquainted  with  agricultural 


44  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

matters,  the  value  of  fences  or  wheat-fields,  and 
could,  upon  your  own  information,  probably  give 
you  just  as  good  advice  here  as  if  I  should  visit 
and  inspect  the  premises.'* 

But,  as  many  a  lawyer  will  attest,  there  is  no 
use  trying  to  convince  a  man  of  hard-headed 
"justice,"  such  as  my  present  visitor  was,  that 
anything  could  be  done,  even  in  a  law-suit,  with- 
out first  examining  the  geography,  the  topog- 
raphy, and  the  tangible  and  visible  details  of 
the  premises  of  the  whole  matter  and  circum- 
stances; and  so,  agreeably  to  his  request,  I  con- 
sented that  on  a  certain  day  I  would  visit  his 
farm,  over  an  hundred  miles  distant,  and  scruti- 
nize the  physical  situation  of  the  origin  of  the 
neighborly  controversy. 

Now,  this  may  seem  like  i\.vvjrr,ing  out  of  the 
wa\-  when  one  is  telling  a  love  story.  A  case 
of  trcspa-^.  involving;  principles  of  law  and 
equity,  would  seem  to  be  quite  a  different  matter 
from    that    involved    in    the    question    that    the 


A   Client, 


45 


motherly  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  her  two  dear  girls 
wished  me  to  decide.  But  wait  and  see.  As  I 
said,  things  come  about  very  queerly  sometimes. 


A  PROFESSIONAL  TRIP. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    PROFESSIONAL    TRIP. 

tT  was  a  bright  summer  day  when  I  took  the 
train  and  ran  down  to  the  township  of 
Trowbridge,  county  of  Winston.  At  the  station- 
house  I  was  met  by  the  old  farmer,  (whose 
name,  I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you,  was  Jones,) 
and  I  found  that  all  his  neighbors  and  the  folks 
round  about  called  him  *'  Deacon,"  and  that  he 
was  a  great  man  in  his  district.  Deacon  Jones 
drove  me,  in  a  double  carriage,  straight  to  his 
house,  a  mile  distant,  and,  in  a  very  business- 
like way,  at  once  proceeded  to  the  veritable 
fence  through  which  his  cattle  had  broken  into 
that  veritable  wheat-field,  for  the  injury  to  the 
growing  grain  in  which  his  aggrieved  neighbor 
4 


50  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

demanded  unreasonable  damages.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  our  purpose  to  go  into  details  as  to 
our  examination  of  the  premises,  our  estimates 
of  the  actual  injury  done,  or  the  probable  mar- 
ket value  of  the  wheat  destroyed.  It  was  very 
apparent  to  me  that  Deacon  Jones  was  a  fair, 
reasonable  man,  who  honestly  desired  to  settle 
the  controversy  with  his  neighbor  upon  a  just 
and  honorable  basis. 

"Should  Mr.  Bingle,"  (that  was  the  name  of 
the  Deacon's  aggrieved  neighbor,)  "  should  Mr. 
Bingle  attempt,  by  suit  at  law,  to  recover  more 
than  the  sum  of  damages  you  have  offered  him," 
I  said,  **  I  will  guaranty  his  failure  of  success. 
No  jury  of  farmers  would  award  him  as  much  as 
you  offer  him ;  of  that  I  am  satisfied/' 

"That's  just  what  I  told  him  yesterday," 
remarked  the  Deacon,  "  and  yet  he  threatens  to 
sue." 

And  the  old  gentleman,  who  informed  me  that 
never  in  all  his  long  life  had  he  been  a  party  to  a 
lawsuit,  and  never  wished  to  be,   sighed  deeply,. 


A  Professional  Trip,  51 

looked  sad,  and  invited  me  to  his  house.  On 
our  way  thither  he  took  occasion  to  tell  me  how- 
much  this  little  neighborly  quarrel  had  troubled 
him,  and  how  he  wished  Mr.  Bingle  could  be 
persuaded  to  see  that  "  right  is  right,  and  justice 
is  justice,"  and  settle  the  matter  on  "the 
square,"  without  any  further  difficulty.  I  pro- 
posed that  he  send  for  Mr.  Bingle,  and  we  would 
talk  it  over  quietly  with  him,  then  and  there. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "Bingle  is  a  singular  sort 
of  a  fellow,  and  wouldn't  come  over  if  I  should 
send  for  him.  The  only  way  is  for  us  to  go  over 
to  his  house  and  'beard  the  lion  in  his  den  ^'  " 

"Well,  let  us  do  that,  then,"  I  proposed,  and 
it  was  so  agreed ;  and  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
day  the  Deacon  and  I  walked  across  the  fields 
of  the  adjoining  farms  to  Mr.  Bingle's. 

Mr.  Bingle,  sure  enough,  was  a  singular  sort 
of  man;  crabbed,  unsociable,  repellent.  He 
did  not  propose  to  compromise ;  didn't  believe 
in  compromises,  any  way  —  and  I  was  a  little 
amused  in  hearing  him  repeat,  almost  word  for 


52  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

word,  the  sentiment  of  my  client,  that  "  right  is 
right,  and  justice  is  justice." 

And  here  is  a  question  that,  in  personal  con- 
troversies, is  often  very  difficult  to  answer: 
What  is  right  —  what  is  justice?  I  left  the  two 
disputants  to  discuss  the  question  in  their  neigh- 
borly, but  ill-natured  way,  and  sat  quietly  in  a 
corner  of  the  big  room. 

"Heaven  help  us,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  sat 
alone,  "  what /V  right  and  just.^  Here  are  two 
men  of  more  than  ordinary  sense  trying  to 
persuade  each  other  —  one  that  he  has  been 
damaged  overmuch,  the  other  that  his  neighbor's 
claim  is  unreasonable — and  I  the  arbitrator. 
Heaven  help  me  and  justice,  for  I  see  that  I 
have  now  been  placed  in  the  breach  to  decide 
between  these  two  quarreling  neighbors."  And 
I  tried  to  comprehend  the  entire  situation,  and 
endeavored,  after  having  heard  both  sides,  to  con- 
clude in  my  own  mind  how  to  advise  my  client, 
the  good  Deacon,  honestly,  as  to  what  was  best, 
safest  and  right.     For  an  hour  I  ke[)t  my  silent 


A  Professional  Trip,  53 

corner,  and  finally  reached  a  conclusion,  based 
not  only  upon  reason,  but  upon  law.  I  knew, 
because  I  saw  and  understood,  that  Deacon 
Jones  was  not  only  disposed  to  do  right  and  to 
satisfy  his  unreasonable  neighbor,  but  that  he 
would  even,  if  need  be,  go  far  beyond  reason 
and  justice  in  order  to  prevent  a  public  suit  at 
law. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Bingle,"  I  said,  coming  back  from 
my  silent  corner,  after  having  heard  the  state- 
ments and  asseverations  of  both  sides  of  the 
case,  and  the  argumentations  of  each  to  per- 
suade the  other  that  he  was  right  and  the  other 
wrong,  *'  Mr.  Bingle,  while  I  have  been  regularly 
employed  by  Mr.  Jones  to  represent  his  interest 
in  this  controversy,  yet  I  candidly  assure  you 
that,  after  talking  very  freely  with  him  before, 
and  listening  to  your  discussion  now,  I  am  sure — 
quite  and  entirely  positive — that  he  wishes  to  do 
right.  And  what  more  can  you  or  he,  or  any- 
body, desire  in  such  a  case  }  Mr.  Jones  tells  me 
that  he   is   heartily  sorry  that  his  cattle  broke 


54  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

over  his  fence,  entering  and  destroying  your 
wheat-field.  I  believe  his  expression  of  regret 
is  sincere.  And  after  doing  his  very  best  to 
compute  the  actual  damage  done,  he  proposes 
to  settle  with  you  honorably.  His  basis  of  set- 
tlement, I  think,  is  that  of  a  just  man;  no  court 
in  the  world  would  award  to  you  honester  or 
juster  terms  than  he  proposes.  Think  of  his 
proposition  seriously,  and  accept  it.  It  would 
be  honest — it  would  be  neighborly — it  would  be 
the  right  thing  to  do  as  between  man  and  man." 
Thus  relieving  myself — and  I  spoke  very  frank- 
ly and  earnestly — I  "  fell  back  in  good  order,"  as 
the  soldiers  used  to  say  in  the  war,  and  left  the 
two  quarreling  farmers  to  reach  a  conclusion. 
They  talked  the  matter  over  again;  they  argued 
and  re-argued,  agreed  and  disagreed,  but  failed 
to  come  to  an  understanding.  Finally,  from  my 
corner,  to  which  I  had  again  retreated,  and 
where  I  was  trying  to  read  a  newspaper,  I  heard 
this  remark,  delivered  very  emphatically  by  Mr. 
Bingle:    "Deacon,   my  niece.   Loll,  (you   know 


A  Professional  Trip.  55 

her,)  is  a  mighty  smart  young  woman  —  I'll 
agree  to  leave  the  whole  matter  to  her,  and 
what  she  says  I'll  agree  to,  and  she  knows  noth- 
ing at  all  about  it  now,  I  warrant  you." 

"'  Loll !  Loll ! !  What  does  she  know  about 
matters  of  this  kind?"  I  heard  the  Deacon  ask, 
and  then  advanced  to  the  scene  of  the  dual 
strife  and  -suggested  to  my  client  thus :  "  Mr. 
Jones,  the  intuitions  of  woman  are  always  on 
the  side  of  justice  and  right  —  accept  his  propo- 
sition." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  instantly  exclaimed  Deacon  Jones  ; 
*'  I'll  do  it,  and  yet  I  don't  know  how  capable 
she  is  of  deciding  anything.  I  want  peace  and 
good  neighborhood,  and  will  do  almost  anything 
to  settle  this  trouble  to  mutual  satisfaction." 

Mr.  Bingle  at  once  went  out  of  the  room,  say- 
ing, "I'll  bring  Loll;  she's  quick  to  see  a  thing; 
her  decision  will  be  right,  and  right  is  all  I 
want." 

It  was  a  spectacle  worth  the  seeing — it  was 
indeed — to  see  those  two  old  farmers  endeavor- 


56  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

ing  to  settle  their  petty  differences  in  their 
peculiar  way;  and,  for  a  lawyer,  accustomed  to 
the  ways  and  means  of  legal  controversy,  it  was 
not  only  amusing,  but  afforded  an  opportunity 
for  a  profitable  lesson.  It  was  —  so  I  then 
thought — an  excellent  exhibition  of  human  nature 
in  its  unsophisticated  state.  Both  gentlemen 
were  intelligent,  as  the  world  goes,  and  their 
opinions  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  accepted 
as  equal  to  law  by  their  rustic  friends  and 
neighbors,  for  many  miles  around,  on  ordinary 
matters  of  question ;  but  this  was  not  an  ordi- 
nary matter  —  it  was  extraordmary  —  and  so  they 
kept  it  from  their  neighbors  and  friends,  and 
none  knew  of  their  controversy  but  their  two 
immediate  families  and  myself;  and  I  must 
acknowledge  that,  youthful  barrister  and  inex- 
perienced in  family  or  neighborhood  squabbles 
as  I  then  was,  I  would  have  given  almost  any- 
thing in  the  world  that  was  at  my  command,  if 
I  could  have  taken  myself  entirely  out  of  the 
quarrel.      But  it  was  too  late.      Deacon  Jones 


A  Professional  Trip,  57 

had  deliberately  drawn  me  into  it  as  his  advisor 
and  counsel,  and,  as  a  young  lawyer,  with 
nothing  behind  him  but  great  hopes,  and  '^rith 
great  ambition  before  him,  I  was  professionally 
bound,  as  the  saying  is  in  the  -American  idiom, 
to  "see  the  thing  through,"  and  to  bring  my 
client  out  of  the  difficulty  with  honor  and  legal 
justice. 

I  sat  for  five  minutes  in  the  solemn  and  silent 
presence  of  the  grave  old  Deacon,  when  Mr. 
Bingle  re-entered  the  drawing-room  with  his 
niece  Loll,  when  I  again  retreated  to  my  corner 
in  the  back  part  of  the  great  room. 

"Loll?"  I  instinctively  exclaimed  to  myself — 
"Loll?  Why,  it's  Laura  Ferris -^^ it's  the  niece 
of  Mrs.  Wilkins  —  it's  one  of  my  dear  sisters  at 
my  home  in  Westerly!" 

"My  niece,  Loll,"  said  Mr.  Bingle  to  Deacon 
Jones.  "  This,  Loll,  is  the  gentleman  whose 
farm  is  next  adjoining  ours,  with  whom  we  have 
a  dispute  about  damages." 

"Mr.  Jones,"  said   Loll,   "I   have  often  seen 


58  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

and  heard  of  you,  and  I  know  your  daughter, 
Mary,  very  well ;  we  are  excellent  friends,  and 
my  uncle  and  you  must  have  no  unpleasant 
disagreements  between  you.  Uncle  tells  me  that 
you  two  have  a  trouble,  and  he  wants  me  to 
decide  between  you.  It's  very  funny  to  me ;  the 
very  idea.  I  promise  you  that  when  I  shall  give 
my  decision,  I  will  decide  in  your  favor,  Mr. 
Jones,  on  Mary's  account,  and  I  know  that  will 
be  the  end  of  it,  for  you  think  very  much  of 
your  Mary,  and  uncle,  here,  thinks  very  much 
of  me,  and  we  two  families  cannot  afford  to  be 
put  out  with  each  other ;  it  would  be  dreadful, 
it  would  indeed." 

"But,"  said *Deacon  Jones,  "  there  is  a  ques- 
tion of  right  and  justice  involved  in  the  matter, 
and  it  must  be  decided  righteously,  so  that  both 
shall  be  satisfied." 

"That  is  just  what  I  told  Loll,"  said  Mr. 
Bingle,  "when  I  requested  her  to  come  in,  hear 
the  matter,  and  decide  between  us.     Loll  is  a 


A  Professional  Trip,  59 

bright,  good,  honest  girl,  and  her  judgment, 
whatever  it  be,  will  be  right,  I  know." 

Just  then,  seeing  a  favorable  opportunity,  I 
advanced  toward  them  from  out  of  my  corner, 
and  remarked  :  ''Mr.  Jones,  it  is 'all  right — trust 
to  Loll's  judgment — I'll  be  security  for  her  any 
day." 

"  Why,  Sam  !  —  Sam  Traverse !  dear  brother 
Sam!  How  came  you  here.'^"  exclaimed  Laura 
Ferris — for  it  was  indeed  the  sprightly  -Laura, 
with  her  auburn  curls  and  blue  eyes — -who,  to 
my  sadness,  had  left  our  home  at  Westerly  only 
a  week  or  two  ago,  without  even  bidding  me 
good-bye,  to  spend  some  weeks  with  her  grand- 
mother, here,  at  her  uncle's.  The  grandmother, 
— Mrs.  Summerfield— was  the  mother  of  Mr. 
Bingle's  wife,  now  dead. 

Do  you  see,  now,  reader,  how  things  happen 
queerly  sometimes.?  I  do  not  know  why  it 
happened  thus.  But  other  queer  incidents  are 
still  to  be  told. 


MOONLIGHT  MEDITATIONS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


MOONLIGHT    MEDITATIONS. 


fLT  was  a  delightful  moonlight  evening  in  the 
:,  country.  In  the  country !  There  is  to  my 
mind  something  so  captivating,  so  very  charming 
about  the  country,  in  contradistinction  from  the 
town  or  city — something  so  much  like  the  differ- 
ence between  Paradise  and  Pandemonium — that 
I  wonder — or,  at  least,  I  did  wonder  at  this 
time — how  people  could  live  anywhere  but  in 
the  country,  especially  in  the  summer  time,  and 
while  the  moon  is  shining  in  the  quiet  evenings. 
I  spent  that  evening  in  a  moonlight  walk  with 
Laura  along  the  shaded  highway.  I  will  never 
forget  the  pleasures  of  that  hour  as  long  as  I 
live.     Laura  was  the  very  paragon  of  loveliness; 


64  TJl:  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

amiable,  affectionate,  confiding.  How  could  any 
man,  born  of  woman,  and  sent  forth  into  the  ^ 
world  with  the  blessings  of  a  revered  woman 
upon  his  head,  take  a  walk,  spend  an  evening, 
and  interchange  thought  and  sentiment  with 
such  as  she  without  loving  her?  Men  are 
human,  the  greatest  and  the  least  of  them,  and 
so  are  women.  Bring  them  together  alone — 
especially  on  a  moonlight  evening  in  the  country 
— and  their  humanity  is  irresistible.  On  that 
evening  Laura  and  I  parted  at  the  door  of  her 
uncle  Bingle's  mansion  as  lovingly  as  the  most 
devoted  of  human  creatures.  I  knew  she  loved 
me,  because  she  declared  it  in  enthusiastic 
words,  and  I  felt  that  I  loved  her.  Heaven  help 
us  at  such  a  time,  for  we,  poor  weaklings,  cannot 
help  ourselves.  I  told  Laura  that  she  was  the 
idol  of  my  soul.  And  it  was  so.  At  least  I 
thought  so  then. 


A  WOMAN'S  lUDGMENT. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A  woman's  judgment. 

tWAS  an  invited  guest  the  next  day  at  the 
mansion  of  Mr.  Bingle. 
"Well,  Loll,"  said  Mr.  Bingle,  "have  you 
decided  in  your  mind  the  matter  between  the 
Deacon  and  I  ?  It  is  time — what's  your  jiidg- 
ment }  Is  he  or  I  right }  Come,  let  me  know, 
for  I  have  agreed  to  take  you  and  *  Lawyer  Sam,' 
as  you  call  him,  over  there  to-night  to  spend  the 
evening  and  come  to  a  final  settlement,  one  way 
or  'tother." 

"Uncle,"  she  replied,  "I  honestly  confess  to 
you  that  since  Sam  has  arrived  here,  I  have  not 
been  able  to  think  a  serious  thought.  I  know 
him  so  well  that,  without  thinking  anything  at 


68  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

all  about  it,  I  know  that  whatever  he  advises  is 
right.     Do  as  he  says — that's  my  decision." 

^'But,  Loll,"  the  brusque  old  gentleman  re- 
torted, "this  Lawyer  Sam  is  here  as  the  adviser 
of  Deacon  Jones,  and  is  in  his  interest.  That 
won't  do.  The  Deacon  is  unreasonable,  and 
Sam  supports  him,  and  all  I  want  is  right  and 
justice.  Now,  Loll,  you  know  all  about  it — we 
have  told  you — and  I  look  to  you  to  decide 
wisely  and  justly,  from  your  own  knowledge  of 
the  matter." 

**  Uncle,"  she  said,  "  if  you  knew  Sam  as  well 
as  I  do,  you  would  tell  him  to  settle  the  matter 
as  he  thinks  best,  and  there  let  it  rest.  He  will 
do  justly — I  know  he  will.  I  would  trust  to  his 
judgment  rather  than  my  own,  and  so  may  you. 
And  this,  dear  uncle,  is  my  decision — that  what- 
ever Sam  Traverse  shall  declare  right  and  just, 
is  so,  and  must  be  so — he  is  an  honest  man  if 
ever  there  has  been  one  in  the  world." 

The  old  gentleman  turned  away  frowningly. 
He  did  not  like   this  unexpected   climax,    and 


A    Woman  s  Judgment,  69 

evidently  felt  that  the  close  friendship  between 
his  niece  and  Deacon  Jones'  lawyer  was  a  con- 
spiracy on  the  part  of  the  Deacon.  And  Laura, 
with  the  quick,  instinctive  perception  of  a  woman, 
at  once  discovered  this  suspicion  in  his  mind, 
and,  leaving  me  abruptly  alone,  she  followed  him 
into  his  room.  Presently  returning,  she  said: 
*'  That  matter  is  settled,  at  all  events ;  my  uncle 
must  not  think  me  a  party  against  him — and 
now,  when  we  go  over  to  Deacon  Jones'  this 
evening,  you  must  let  me  announce  the  verdict 
in  this  affair,  which  they  have  left  to  me,  for 
neither  my  uncle  nor  the  Deacon  must  think 
that  you  have  influenced  me.  You  have  said 
nothing  to  me  about  it,  but  I  understand  it  all. 
Leave  it  to  me,  and  I  will  see  that  justice  is 
done." 

I,  knowing  her  innate  honesty  and  shrewdness,, 
acquiesced  without  a  dissenting  word. 

In  the  evening  uncle  Bingle,  Laura  and  I 
walked  leisurely  across  the  fields  to  the  mansion 
of  Deacon  Jones.     It  was  a  charming  evening, 


70  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

and  even  the  crabbed  uncle,  walking  at  the  side 
of  his  sprightly  niece,  became  somewhat  senti- 
mental, and  in  a  sad,  half-youthful  sort  of  mood, 
referred  to  the  delightful  walks  and  heavenly 
communions  that  he  and  that  "  precious  wife  *' 
of  his,  who  had  "gone  to  heaven,"  used  to  have 
on  just  such  evenings  and  nights  as  this.  And  I 
looked  in  the  old  gentleman's  face  as  we  strolled 
along,  and  saw  something  glistening  on  his  cheek 
that  looked  very  like  a  tear,  and  I  took  him  by 
the  arm  and  said,  softly,  "  God  help  us  all,  Mr. 
Bingle :  we  all  are  weak  and  helpless  creatures ; 
uncertainty,  death,  and  heart-troubles  are  the 
destiny  of  every  one  of  us.  I  honor  the  tear 
that  a  sacred  memory  calls  up  ;  it  tells  of  a  good 
heart.     God  bless  you,  Mr.  Bingle!" 

The  old  gentleman  drew  his  handkerchief 
across  his  face,  and,  after  walking  silently  for  a 
few  minutes,  exclaimed : 

"Why,  why,  Loll!  Loll!  does  this  lawyer  Sam 
love  you,  and  do  you  love  him  1  Now  come,  tell 
me."     His  voice  was  husky  and  trembeld  like 


A    Woman  s  Judgment,  yi 

that  of  a  weeping  woman.  His  eyes  were  full 
of  tears,  and,  stopping,  he  looked  into  Laura's 
face  and  then  into  mine,  with  a  peculiar  eager- 
ness. 

"  We  love  each  other,  uncle,"  Laura  said,  "  as 
brother  and  sister — that  is  all — that  is  all.'* 

"Lawyer  Sam,"  he  said,  resuming  our  walk, 
"  is  that  all  ?  Tell  me  truly,  for  I  see  you  are  a 
good  fellow,  and  Loll,  here,  is  a  good  girl— a 
very,  very  good  girl.  Her  mother,  who  was  my 
wife's  sister,  was  just  like  her." 

"  She  has  told  you  all  there  is  between  us,"  I 
replied. 

He  kissed  his  niece,  and  then  pressed  my 
hand.  Crabbed  old  fellow  as  he  was,  we  had 
found  the  human  part  of  him.  But  he  thought 
Laura  and  I  were  more  and  nearer  to  each  other 
than  we  really  were.  I  do  not  know  what 
Laura  thought,  but  I  remember  very  well  what  I 
thought. 

Presently  we  reached  Deacon  Jones'  gate,  and 
found  that  grave-faced  gentleman  awaiting  us. 


72  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

He  received  us  cordially,  and  after  seating  us  in 
his  parlor,  called  in  his  wife  and  daughter  and 
introduced  us  to  them.  Mrs.  Jones  was  a  moth- 
erly-appearing dame,  more  youthful  in  looks 
than  in  years,  with  a  few  straggling  gray  hairs  in 
a  profusion  of  dark  curls  which  graced  both 
sides  of  a  sunny  face.  Her  daughter,  Mary — 
sweet  old  name  ! — was  a  charming  young  lady 
of  about  twenty — a  perfect  beauty — with  a  face 
all  sunshine  and  intelligence;  manners  as  pol- 
ished and  language  as  refined  as  those  of  the 
most  cultivated  of  the  city  belles  ;  her  dark  hair 
tastefully  arranged  over  a  broad  brow  that  was 
as  white  as  marble,  and  large  dark-brown  eyes 
beaming  dreamily  from  a  well-rounded  physiog- 
nomy. 

I  confess  to  a  peculiar  admiration  for  beauti- 
ful women — an  admiration  that  amounts  almost 
to  an  infatuation — an  admiration  that  always  has 
been  with  me  a  pleasurable  enthusiasm,  if  not  a 
positive  weakness.  And  it  is  not  a  confession 
to  be  ashamed  of.     Is  there   anything  in   ani- 


A    Wojnans  Judgment,  73 

mated  nature  that  is  more  beautiful  than  a 
really  beautiful  woman — a  woman  well-formed 
physically,  with  an  angelic  face,  a  good  heart 
and  mind,  and  a  pure  soul — a  woman  combining 
facial  charms  with  refined  sensibilities,  modesty, 
neatness,  gentleness?  I  don't  mean  your  gaudy 
creations  of  art  and  affectation — not  those  whose 
beauty  consists  only  of  their  apparel  and  the 
tricks  and  appliances  of  fashion.  The  beauty 
of  these  is  not  the  beauty  of  women,  but  the 
ingenuity  of  art — it  is  all  on  the  surface,  and 
generally  all  is  emptiness  within.  Neither  do  I 
mean  those  whose  faces  are  fair,  whose  hair  is 
profuse  and  well  ordered,  whose  eyes  are  bright, 
or  whose  manners  are  winning;  these  are  essen- 
tial elements,  perhaps,  but  something  more  is 
needed  to  complete  my  ideal  of  a  beautiful 
woman — such  as  culture,  good  sense,  and  moral 
loveliness.  A  really  beautiful  woman  must  be  a 
good  woman,  a  pure,  chaste,  modest  woman,  as 
w^ell  as  handsome  physically — she  must  be  truly 
womanly  and  truly  lovely.     And  when  I  meet 


74  ^/^^  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

such  an  one,  I  do  not  try  to  resist  her  charms — 
I  cannot — they  are  irresistible — and  I  yield 
myself  her  captive  at  once  and  unconditionally. 
Beautiful  women,  such  as  I  mean,  were  Laura, 
Frances  and  my  newly-discovered  divinity,  Mary 
Jones. 

*'Well,  neighbor  Jones,"  slowly  and  solemnly 
opened  Mr.  Bingle,  after  a  few  minutes  of  pre- 
liminary conversation  around  the  little  circle, 
"  we  have  come  over  to  settle  our  little  dispute, 
as  appointed,  and  as  '  business  before  pleasure ' 
is  a  good  rule,  I  propose  that  we  come  to  that  at 
once,  and  end  all  further  misunderstanding." 

*'  The  sooner  the  better,  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, Mr.  Bingle,"  said  Deacon  Jones,  rising 
nervously  from  his  chair ;  "  is  your  niece  ready 
to  make  the  decision .?  We  have  left  it  all  to 
her,  I  believe." 

"Yes,"  said  Laura,  "my  verdict  is  prepared, 
and  it  is  this :  That  you  two  good  old  neighbors 
shall  make  up  and  be  friends.  You,  Mr.  Jones, 
shall  pay  my  uncle  nothing  at  all,  and  you,  my 


A    Woman  s  Judgment,  75 

dear  uncle,  shall  say  to  Mr.  Jones  something  like 
this  :  *  My  good  Deacon,  your  cattle  broke  into 
my  wheat-field  and  damaged  my  grain — it  was 
very  annoying,  and  I  became  much  incensed ; 
but  you  were  not  to  blame  for  it.  Some  time 
my  cattle  may  break  into  one  of  your  fields  in 
the  same  way.  These  things  do  happen  some- 
times, especially  between  farmers  who  are  neigh- 
bors. So,  if  at  any  time  my  cattle  should  annoy 
or  do  damage  to  you,  I  would  expect  that  you 
would  be  as  considerate  toward  me  as  I  am  now 
towarcj  you.  As  neighbors,  let  us  be  friends, 
and  treat  each  other  as  Christian  neighbors  and 
friends  should.'  " 

Laura  spoke  these  words  as  deliberately  as  a 
preacher  would  his  sermon,  and  with  all  the 
quiet  gesture,  emphasis  and  grace  that  an  actress 
would  deliver  a  studied  speech  on  the  stage. 
Then  bowing  to  her  uncle  and  Deacon  Jones, 
she  concluded  :  "  This  is  my  verdict :  it  may  not 
be  business-like,  as  you  would  say,  but  I  feel  and 
know  it  is  neighbor-like  and  Christian-like." 


"j^  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

I  could  not  help  it,  but  when  she  concluded  I 
instinctively  clapped  my  hands  applaudingly 
and  exclaimed  :  *' Bravo,  Laura  !  bravo!"  And 
Miss  Mary  Jones,  her  eyes  brimfuU  of  smiles, 
joined  me,  clapping  her  hands  also,  and  ex- 
claimed, "I.aura,  you  'would  make  a  first-rate 
Judge!"  And  then  Deacon  Jones  spoke  up: 
"  I  am  afraid  this  verdict  is  a  little  one-sided, 
my  good  lady — so  much  so,  indeed,  that  I  hardly 
know  what  to  make  of  it,  or  how  to  take  it. 
Mr.  Bingle,  I  suspect  you  have  caused  your  niece 
to  play  a  little  joke  here  at  my  expense,  or, 
rather,  at  your  expense.     How  is  it  ?" 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  toward  Mr.  Bingle. 
I  could  see  the  same  peculiarly  sad  expression 
on  his  face  that  I  noted  when,  speaking  of  his 
dead  wife  while  we  were  walking  through  the 
fields  that  evening,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears  and 
his  voice  trembled  like  a  woman's.  He  sat 
silent  and  unmoved  for  a  moment — first  looked 
intently  at  Laura,  then  at  me,  then  at  the 
Deacon.     "  It  is  no  joke  of  mine,"  he  remarked, 


A    Woman  s  Judgment,  yj 

slowly  and  nervously,  at  last :  "  I  knew  not  what 
her  decision  would  be  until  she  declared  it. 
But  it  is  all  right — the  dear  girl  is  right — so  like 
her  aunt,  my  sainted  wife- — so  like  her — so  like 
the  spirit  of  a  true  Christian.  I  thank  you, 
Laura,  and,  Mr.  Jones,  I  beg  your  forgiveness  for 
not  having  until  this  moment  seen  my  duty  as  a 
neighbor  more  clearly.  Loll  is  right ;  it  is  just 
as  her  aunt  would  have  advised  if  she  were 
living.     It  is  all  right." 

And  the  old  gentleman,  wiping  a  tear  from  his 
cheek,  arose,  grasped  his  neighbor  by  the  hand, 
and  they  were  friends  again,  and  better  friends 
than  they  had  ever  been  before,  and  truer  and 
better  neighbors  from  that  time  forward. 

"I  sent  for  you,  Mr.  Traverse,  to  come  and 
help  me  settle  this  quarrel,  as  a  lawyer,"  re- 
marked Deacon  Jones,  taking  my  hand,  "  and 
now  tell  me,  did  Laura  act  under  your  advice,  or 
was  this  her  own  device.?" 

"I  assure  you,  and  also  Mr.  Bingle,"  I  replied, 
"that  Laura  and  I  have  not  exchanged  a  single 


78  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

word  in  reference  to  the  dispute.  She  neither 
asked  me  anything  concerning  it,  nor  did  I  pre- 
sume to  mention  it  to  her,  or  to  make  even  a 
suggestion.  I  approve  the  judgment  entirely, 
but  most  emphatically  deny  having  influenced 
the  mind  of  the  judge." 

"A  remarkable  young  woman!"  said  Deacon 
Jones. 

"  Indeed  she  is  a  remarkable  young  woman," 
joined  Mr.  Bingle — "so  like  her  aunt  who  is 
dead — so  very,  very  like." 

"  Now  let  us  dismiss  this  whole  matter  from 
our  conversation  and  minds,"  said  Laura;  **  it  is 
settled;  all  are  satisfied,  and  I  am  the  most 
gratified  of  all  concerned,  for  I  know  I  have 
decided  justly,  and  am  rejoiced  to  see  that  you 
all  think  so.  Here,  Mr.  Traverse,  I  want  you  to 
know  my  friend  Mary  well — for  she  and  I  are 
good  friends,  and  have  been  ever  since  we  were 
little  children." 

And  we  three  young  folks  of  the  party  retired 
into  an  adjoining  room,  leaving  the  Deacon  and 
♦ 


A    Woman  s  Judgment,  79 

his  wife  and  Mr.  Bingle  to  themselves  in  the 
parlor,  as  sociable  and  happy  as  old  neighbors 
should  be,  and  the  happier  for  the  removal  of 
the  subject  of  the  late  dispute. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  evening.  I  enjoyed  the 
society  of  Mary  Jones  and  Laura  greatly ;  we 
had  a  lively  conversation  at  first,  then  social 
games,  and  then  a  frolic  by  moonlight  on  the 
lawn  and  in  the  garden.  I  must  candidly  ac- 
knowledge that  there  was  something  about  Mary 
Jones  that  irresistibly  captivated  me.  Laura 
was  sprightly,  pretty  and  loving,  but  Mary  was 
all  these  and  something  more — and  that  some- 
thing— call  it  intellectuality,  call  it  culture,  or 
call  it  magnetism — drew  me  to  her  as  I  thought 
I  had  never  been  drawn  to  a  woman  before. 
And,  somehow,  before  the  evening  was  over,  I 
felt  that  I  loved  Mary  Jones,  and  I  saw  and  felt 
that  the  sentiment  found  a  response  in  her  own 
soul.  Laura  Ferris  did  not  know  it — dear 
creature — nobody  else  under  the  sky  knew  it  or 
suspected  it ;  but  it  was  so,  and  when  taking  my 


8o  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

departure  that  night  from  the  house  of  my 
client,  Deacon  Jones — for  Laura  and  her  uncle 
insisted  that  I  must  be  their  guest  for  another 
day — there  was  a  mutual  pressure  of  hands 
when  Mary  and  I  said  good  night,  and  a  very 
cordial  expression  of  a  hope  that  we  would  soon 
meet  again. 

"It  is  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Bingle,  as  we  were 
returning  across  the  fields,  "  it  is  all  right,  Loll, 
and  I  am  glad  you  decided  just  as  you  did.  I 
am  a  better  man  for  it,  and  the  Deacon  and  I 
will  be  better  friends  and  neighbors  for  it.  It  is 
all  right — so  like  your  aunt,  my  dear  dead  wife — 
so  like  her — so  very  like  her.  Lawyer  Sam," 
that  is  what  he  persisted  in  calling  me,  "you 
will  never  find  a  better  girl  than  Loll.  She  tells 
me  that  you  and  she  are  as  brother  and  sister. 
That  cannot  be  so  long,  and  I  half  suspect  it  is 
more  than  that  now.  Come,  now,  tell  me,  isn't 
there  something  more  serious  between  you  V 

"  We  have  boarded  together  so  long  with  her 
aunt  in  town,"  I  replied,  "  that  we  have  indeed 


A    Woman  s  Judgment.  8i 

become  like  brother  and  sister.  I  did  not  dream 
of  meeting  her  out  here  when  I  came  to  Trow- 
bridge, at  Deacon  Jones'  request,  yet  meeting 
her  has  made  my  visit  exceedingly  pleasant. 
We  are  very  good  friends,  Mr.  Bingle — Laura 
and  I — but  nothing  more,  I  think— eh,  Laura.'*" 

*'  That  is  all,  uncle — only  good  friends,  like 
brother  and  sister — but  " — 

**But.^"  repeated  Mr.  Bingle,  ''but  what.?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  uncle — nothing;  I  did  not  know 
what  I  was  going  to  say,"  And  I  could  see,  by 
the  soft  light  of  the  moon,  that  a  blush  suffused 
those  fresh  round  cheeks — and  I  was  troubled 
again,  for  I  knew  what  she  was  thinking  about — 
I  recollected  what  she  and  I  had  talked  about 
so  affectionately  during  our  romantic  moonlight 
walk  on  the  previous  evening.     It  was  love. 

Again  I  was  confronted  by  the  question, 
Which  do  I  love  best }  This  time  it  was  not 
Laura  Ferris  or  Frances  AVilkins — it  was  Mary 
Jones  or  Laura  Ferris.  Laura  was  beautiful, 
affectionate,  good,  sensible — and  I  was  sure  I 
6 


82  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

did  love  her  last  evening;  but  why  did  she  give 
Mary  Jones  and  me  an  opportunity  to  know 
each  other  so  well  this  evening  ?  I  was  begin- 
ning to  distrust  myself.  Was  I  fickle  and  heart- 
less ?  Was  I  the  ready  victim  of  every  pretty 
face  and  loving  smile  ?  Did  I  really  know  what 
love  was  ?  Was  I  a  simpleton  and  a  fool  in 
these  matters  ?  I  could  not  answer  these  ques- 
tions, and  they  continued  to  keep  me  awake  that 
night  until  toward  the  morning,  when  I  fell 
asleep  and  dreamed  a  beautiful  dream — not 
about  Laura  Ferris;  not  about  Mary  Jones;  but 
about  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  her  majestic,  dark-eyed 
daughter,  Frances. 

The  next  day,  reluctantly  bidding  Laura  and 
her  uncle  good-bye,  I  returned  to  Westerly  and 
my  office — to  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  Frances. 


AN  OLD  CHUM'S  ADVICE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AN    OLD    chum's    ADVICE. 

.  NE  of  the  first  persons  to  enter  my  office, 
1^^  after  my  return  from  Trowbridge,  was  my 
old  college  chum  and  intimate  friend,  Joe  Start- 
ling. Joe  was  a  young  man  —  about  my  own 
age,  a  noble  fellow,  and  unmarried.  He  was 
now  a  merchant,  doing  business  in  Westerly. 

"  Joe,"  said  I,  after  commonplace  conversa- 
tion, "why  don't  you  marry.?  " 

"  Queer  question  for  you  to  ask  me,"  he  replied, 
"  Sam,  why  don't  you  marry  ?  " 

"Can't  afford  it,  but  you  can  —  that's  the  dif- 
ference." 

"  I  might  afford  it,"  he  said,  "but  I  have  yet  to 
find  the  woman.  But,  Sam,  why  did  you  ask  me 
this  question  ?  " 


86  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

"  For  the  purpose  of  asking  you  another.  If 
there  were  two  or  three  ladies,  all  young,  beauti- 
ful and  lovely,  from  whom  you  could  choose  a  wife 
— you  esteeming  them  equally,  and  knowing  that 
they  either  do  or  could  love  you  —  how  would 
you  decide,  if  you  felt  it  a  duty  to  decide 
between  them  ?  " 

"  Were  I  placed  in  that  situation,  I  would 
decide  very  quickly.  I  would  choose  the  best 
and  prettiest  of  them,  everything  else  being 
equal  —  that  is,  if  I  loved  her  and  was  sure  she 
loved  me." 

"  But  supposing  they  were  equally  good  and 
equally  pretty,  and  that  you  esteemed  them 
equally,  and  were  aware  that  each  of  them  loved 
you,  or  would  if  you  desired  it." 

"That,"  replied  Joe,  smiling,  ^'is  not  a  possi- 
ble combination  of  conditions." 

And  then  I  unbosomed  myself  to  Joe,  whom 
1  had  always  found  a  safe  depository  of  my 
secrets,  and  a  good  adviser  withal.     I  told  him 


An  Old  Chums  Advice,  ^*j 

all  about  Frances  Wilkins  and  Laura  Ferris  and 
my  new-found  friend  Mary  Jones. 

**  I  know  all  three  of  them/'  said  Joe,  when  I 
had  told  him  all,  "  and  most  excellent  girls  they 
are  —  none  better,  none  prettier,  none  lovelier ; 
but  were  I  in  your  place,  Sam,  I  would  take 
Laura  Ferris.  That  speech  of  hers,  when  decid- 
ing the  question  between  the  two  farmers,  if  she 
acquitted  herself  as  you  have  just  stated,  shoves 
that  she  would  make  an  excellent  wife  for  an 
honest  lawyer —  she  would  be  a  helpmeet — and 
she  is  a  very  pretty,  sweet  girl." 

Somehow  I  felt  that  Joe  spoke  wisely,  and  yet, 
after  he  had  gone,  I  gradually  fell  into  as  grave 
a  quandary  as  ever.  I  thought  of  the  fine  form 
and  winning  face  I  saw  and  admired  at  Deacon 
Jones'  —  of  those  smiling  eyes  that  spak^e  back 
to  mine  and  seemed  to  fascinate  my  very  soul. 
And  then  I  thought  of  the  majestic  and  womanly 
Frances,  whom  I  had  known  so  long  and  so  well, 
and  whose  qualities  of  mind  and  temper  I  could 


88 


The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 


not  but  acknowledge  and  admire.     The  more  I       ^ 
thought  of  the  three  divinities,  the  more  I  was 
puzzled  to  decide  which  I  should  set  up  as  my 
particular  idol. 


A  RIVAL. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A    RIVAL. 

JLN  the  evening,  on  entering  Mrs.  Wilkins' 
:,  drawing  room,  I  met  there  a  stranger — a 
tall,  black-haired,  black-bearded,  fine  appearing 
man — somewhat  older  than  I,  apparently  —  and 
whom  Mrs.  Wilkins  introduced  to  me  as  Mr. 
Gentry,  a  friend,  who  had  come  from  an  Eastern 
city  to  spend  a  day  or  two  with  them.  He  and 
I  soon  became  sociable.  I  liked  him.  He  was 
a  man  of  intelligence,  affable  and  gentlemanly. 
We  talked  about  everything  —  the  topics  of  cur- 
rent news -^  the  weather,  literature  —  the  latest 
developments  in  science  —  business  —  and  got 
along  together  very  finely,  agreeing  in  sentiment, 
generally,  and  differing  only  in  the  details  of  the 


92  The  TJives  of  a  Lawyer. 

topics  of  ou[4v'fcmyf'i'^ation  and  discussion.  In- 
deed I  fouhd  ht|3ft?a  very  pleasant  gentleman, 
and  he  politely' il^formed  me  that,  having  some 
time  ago  gone  out  of  trade,  he  was  now  a  cap- 
italist'—  a  loaner  of  money,  his  income  being  a 
handsome  per  cent,  on  a  very  snug  amount. 
^  I  liked  Mr.  Gentry  very  well,  and  was  getting 
to  like  him  better  every  moment,  when  our  con- 
versation was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
Frances. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  such  good  friends  of  mine 
taking  to  each  other  so  readily,"  she  said.  *' And 
now,  without  wishing  to  be  rude,  please  tell  me 
what  you  are  talking  about  so  earnestly." 

"  Everything  —  nothing  —  anything,"  replied 
Mr.  Gentry,  rising  and  taking  h^r  hand;  "but 
now  what  would  you  talk  about }  " 

"Everything  —  nothing  —  anything,"  she  re- 
torted, laughing;  "but  Mr.  Traverse  should  tell 
us  where  he  has  been  these  few  days  past,  what 
he  has  seen,  and  all  about  it." 

"  It  would  be  too  long  a  story,"  I  said ;  "  noth- 


^^t 


A  Rivals  ,  93 

ing  remarkable  —  a  professions  1  mission,  but  one 
of  its  most  remarkable  incidents  was  the  meeting 
of  Laura  at  her  uncle's." 

Instantly,  after  saying  this,  I  discovered  that 
her  face  flushed,  and  immediately  I  could  see  a 
change  in  her  entire  manner  toward  me.  Instead 
of  seeking  my  side,  as  had  been  her  wont,  she 
moved  away  from  me,  and  I  could  see  a  troubled 
expression  in  her  eye.  It  did  not  take  long  for 
me  to  discover  what  the  matter  was.  The  jeal- 
ous young  woman  actually  got  the  notion  into  her 
head  that  I  had  gone  off  to  visit  her  cousin 
Laura,  and  that  this  was  the  occasion  of  my 
absence  from  town.  Aware,  as  I  soon  became, 
that  this  gentleman,  Mr.  Gentry,  had  come  as  an 
admirer  of  Frances  —  a  wooer  —  I  readily  per- 
ceived that  I  was  the  third  person  who  could 
very  conveniently  be  spared  from  the  company, 
in  order  to  complete  the  pleasure  of  the  other 
two.  At  the  earliest  opportunity  I  excused  my- 
self, and  left  the  room. 

The  rest  of  that  evening  I  occupied  in  arguing 


94  TJie  Loves  of  a  Laivyer. 

two  questions,  the  first  of  which  was  whether, 
under  the  circumstances,  it  was  my  •  duty  to 
explain  to  Frances  Wilkins  my  visit  to  the  town 
of  Trowbridge,  and  my  accidental  and  unex- 
pected meeting  there  with  her  cousin  Laura ;  the 
other  was,  whether  this  apparently  clever  gentle- 
man, Mr.  Gentry,  would  not,  in  any  event,  prove 
a  successful  rival  for  the  hand  of  Frances,  even 
if  I  should  wish  to  aspire  to  it.  I  went  to  bed 
that  night,  feeling  wretched  —  and  falling  asleep 
after  an  hour  or  two  of  vexatious  thought,  I 
dreamed  —  I  always  have  been  a  great  dreamer 
—  that  Frances  Wilkins  had  grown  cold  toward 
me  —  no  longer  called  me  "brother  Sam  " — and 
was  promenading  affectionately  with  that  hand- 
some, black-bearded  Mr.  Gentry,  right  in  front 
of  my  own  office,  apparently  with  the  express 
object  of  exciting  my  ire  and  jealousy.  And 
then,  in  my  dream,  I  forgot  this  trouble  by 
meeting  Laura,  and  walking  with  her  across  the 
green  fields  and  in  the  shade  of  the  silent  groves 
of  the  Trowbridge  farm,  by  the  romantic  moon- 


A  Rival.  95 

light  —  lovingly  pledging  her  my  whole  heart, 
and  she  reciprocating  my  every  word  of  love  and 
promise.  And  then,  somehow,  the  dream  closed 
amid  the  flower-beds  and  shrubbery  of  Deacon 
Jones'  dooryard,  with  Mary  Jones  gently  and 
sweetly  beckoning  me  to  her  side,  her  eyes  shin- 
ing like  big  diamonds,  and  her  cheeks  as  rosy 
and  velvety  as  the  leaves  of  the  blooming  dahlias 
that  shed  their  silent  beauty  on  the  scene  around. 
She  beckoned  to  me  very,  very  earnestly,  I 
dreamed,  to  come  to  her,  but  Laura's  hand, 
linked  firmly  in  my  arm,  kept  me  back,  and  in 
the  struggle  of  an  undecided  and  divided  will 
and  purpose,  I  awakened  —  and  discovering  that 
it  was  all  a  dream,  I,  somehow,  was  impelled  to 
thank  my  stars  that  it  was  so.  And  yet,  think- 
ing further,  I  said  to  myself:  "  A  dream  no  doubt 
it  is,  but  very  like  a  reality.  Which  of  those 
three  women  do  I  love  the  most  .'*  " 


FRIENDSHIP,  LOVE  AND  JEALOUSY. 


• 


p 


CHAPTER  X. 

FRIENDSHIP,    LOVE    AND    JEALOUSY. 

^AM,"  said  my  old  friend  and  chum,  Joe 
Startling,  meeting  me  on  the  street  several 
days  after  the  events  already  narrated,  "how 
about  that  trio  of  lovely  young  damsels  you  told 
me  about  the  other  day?  Have  you  made  a 
choice  between  them  yet  ?" 

"No,  no  :  and  I  am  troubled  almost  to  death 
about  them.  The  struggle  is  as  terrible  as  ever, 
and  I  am  as  undecided  as  ever.  I  have  just 
had  a  pleasant  talk  with  Mrs.  Wilkins,  my  moth- 
erly landlady,  and  she  thinks  me  a  fool." 

"  I  don't  know  but  she  is  right,  Sam,"  he  said, 
laughing ;  "  a  man  who  doesn't  know  his  own 
mind,  and  can't  decide  what  his  own  tastes  and 
preferences  are,  is  not  far  from  being  a  fool." 


lOO  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

"But,  Joe,"  I  said,  warming  up  at  this  im- 
peachment of  my  manhood,  "you  acknowledged 
to  me  the  other  day  that  if  it  was  your  case  you 
wouldn't  know  how  to  decide.  True,  you  ad- 
vised Laura  as  the  best  woman  for  an  honest 
lawyer's  wife,  but  how  do  you  know  that  either 
of  the  other  two  wouldn't  be  just  as  good  a  wife 
for  an  honest  lawyer?  Both  are  fine  ladies, 
possessed  of  every  quality  that  a  good  man 
would  desire  in  a  good  woman." 

"Nonsense,  man!"  he  exclaimed,  seriously, 
"  if  you  have  a  mind  of  your  own — if  you  have 
power  of  judgment — you  can,  if  you  really  know 
what  love  is,  decide  this  matter,  and  the  sooner 
you  do  it  the  better.  I  know  you  well  enough 
to  know  that  if  you  permit  a  matter  of  this  kind 
to  trouble  you,  it  will  monopolize  your  best 
thoughts,  and  be  a  serious  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  your  professional  success,  which,  at  your  time 
of  life,  is  everything.  Decide  at  once,  and  let 
that  be  the  end — that  is,  if  you  are  sure  the  one 
of  your  choice  loves  you,  and  that  you  love  her. 


Friendships  Love  and  Jealousy,        loi 

There,  now,  bachelor  as  I  am,  you  have  my 
views  plainly,  and  honestly,  too,  I  assure  you.'* 

I  saw  that  Joe  was  sincere.-  He  meant  every 
word  he  said.     Just  then  a  thought  struck  me. 

"Joe,"  I  said,  "you  know  these  three  young 
ladies,  of  whom  I  have  told  you.  Now  I  have  a 
favor  to  ask  of  you.  Will  you  accompany  me, 
next  Saturday  night,  to  the  town  of  Trowbridge, 
to  spend  Sunday  there,  and  spend  one  evening 
at  Deacon  Jones',  where  we  will  meet  his 
daughter  Mary,  and  also  one  evening  at  his 
neighbor  Bingle's,  where  we  will  meet  Laura 
Ferris  V 

Joe  hesitated  a  moment,  and  finally  consented. 
It  was  agreed  that  we  would,  on. the  next  Satur- 
day,  go  to  Trowbridge,  returning  the  next  Mon- 
day morning. 

No  sooner  had  Joe  left  my  office  than  a  post- 
boy entered  the  door  and  handed  me  a  letter. 
Opening  it,  I  found,  to  my  gratification,  that  it 
was  from  Mary  Jones.  It  was  written  in  an 
elegant  hand,  and  read  as  follows  : 


I02  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

"Trowbridge,  August  15,  18 — . 
"  Mr.  Samuel  Traverse  : 

"Dear  Sir  —  Acting  in  the  capacity  of  my 
father's  Secretary,  I  enclose  herewith,  at  his 
request,  a  check,  which  he  desires  you  to  accept 
for  the  service  you  have  rendered  him  profes- 
sionally.    He  trusts  it  will  be  satisfactory. 

"  In  my  own  behalf,  as  well  as  at  my  father's 
request,  I  very  cordially  invite  you  to   call,  at 
any  time,  at  our  rural  home,  and  become  the 
guest  of  a  family  that  sincerely  esteems  you. 
"  Yery  respectfully,  sir, 

"Mary  Jones." 

It  was  a  neat  specimen  of  feminine  chiro- 
graphy,  judiciously  worded,  and  I  fancied  that  I 
could  see  beneath  every  word  the  smiling  eyes 
and  the  beautiful  face  of  its  writer. 

"  If  Joe  could  see  that  tastefully-framed  little 
missive,"  I  thought,  "  he  might  conclude  that 
Laura  Ferris  is,  after  all,  not  the  only  young 
lady  who  would  make  an  excellent  wife  for  an 
honest  lawyer.  I  warrant  that  this  farmer's 
daughter  would  make  any  good  and  true  man  a 
good  and  true  wife." 


Friendship,  Love  and  Jcalonsy.       103 

Leaving  my  office  early  in  tfie  evening,  I  went 
to  my  home  at  Mrs.  Wilkins',  and  there,  sitting 
alone  in  the  drawing-room,  grave  and  dignified 
almost  to  chilliness,  I  found  Frances.  Taking 
her  hand,  I  said,  "Frances,  what  is  the  matter.? 
Why  do  you  treat  me  so  coldly.?" 

"  I  am  not  accountable  for  my  feelings,  Sam," 
she  replied ;  *'  I  cannot  help  feeling  hurt  that, 
without  saying  one  word  to  me  about  it,  you 
should  have  followed  cousin  Laura  to  her 
uncle's — and  that,  too,  so  soon  after  her  de- 
parture. Why  did  you  not  tell  me  frankly  that 
you  loved  her.?" 

I  endeavored,  with  great  gravity,  to  explain 
the  facts  of  my  going  to  Trowbridge,  and  assured 
her  that  meeting  Laura  there  was  the  merest 
accident ;  but  I  could  see  by  her  looks  and  her 
manner  that  she  doubted  my  story,  which 
piqued  me  greatly,  and  the  fact  that,  without 
saying  much  more,  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  left  the  room  sobbing,  did  not 
add  to  my  comfort  the  least.     Presently  I  heard 


I04  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

her  mother  in  the  adjoining  room,  and,  calling 
to  her,  tried  to  explain  the  whole  matter  to  her, 
expressing  regret  at  Frances'  suspicions  and 
reproaches.  She  seemed  to  sympathize  with 
me,  remarking,  "Don't  let  it  trouble  you,  my 
son — it's  one  of  those  little  lovers'  quarrels 
which  never  last  long."  But,  somehow,  I 
thought  I  could  discover  even  in  the  old  lady's 
looks,  as  we  were  speaking,  that  which  told  me 
she,  too,  doubted  me,  and  that  she,  too,  felt 
annoyed  with  me. 

We  three  sat  down  to  tea  that  evening  as 
unsocially  almost  as  if  we  had  been  strangers. 
Few  words  were  spoken,  and  those  merely 
conventional.  There  were  no  demonstrations, 
looks  or  words  indicating  unfriendliness,  but 
there  was  wanting  that  freedom  and  cordiality 
which  had  always  hitherto  characterized  our 
intercourse,  both  at  the  table  and  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. The  only  speech  made  by  Frances, 
during  the  repast,  was  this :  "  Mr.  Gentry  is  a 
very  fine  gentleman,  don't  you  think  so,  Sam.^" 


Friendship,  Love  and  Jealousy,        105 

I  replied  that,  from  the  slight  opportunity  I  had 
of  making  his  acquaintance,  my  impression  was 
very,  favorable. 

''  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  my  son,"  spoke 
up  Mrs.  Wilkins,  "  for  he  is  a  good  friend  of 
ours,  and  is  very  fond  of  Frances." 

Never  before  that  moment  had  I  experienced 
the  emotion  of  jealousy.  That  last  remark  of 
the  mother  set  my  blood  on  fire,  and  much  as  I 
would  dislike,  even  at  this  day,  to  do  injustice  to 
these  good  friends  of  mine,  whom  I  had  so  long 
regarded  as  mother  and  sister,  I  could  not  help 
but  think,  as  I  was  pondering  over  the  matter  in 
my  own  room  subsequently,  that  these  remarks 
about  Mr.  Gentry  were  made  with  the  deliberate 
intention  of  exciting  my  jealousy.  Those  who 
understand  the  nature,  the  arts  and  the  ingenuity 
of  woman  better  than  I  did  then,  will  pass  their 
own  judgment  upon  this  point. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  in  our  subsequent  con- 
versations neither  the  misunderstanding  between 
Frances    and    myself,    nor    the    name   of    Mr. 


lo6  TJic  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

Gentry,  was  even  as  much  as  referred  to  again. 
At  the  same  time  it  was  very  evident  to  me  that 
Frances  was  jealous  of  her  cousin  Laura,  and 
that  I  was  jealous  of  the  black-bearded  man 
who  was,  as  I  foolishly  felt,  encroaching  upon 
my  domain. 

On  the  night  after  the  unsatisfactory  evening 
at  tea,  I  retired  half-provoked,  and  yet  feeling 
that  Frances  Wilkins  was  too  rare  a  prize  to  be 
given  up.  I  sank  to  sleep,  and,  as  usual,  got  to 
dreaming,  and  this  time  my  dream  was  of 
Frances  and  that  black-bearded  man.  I 
thought  that  he  came  to  steal  her  away  from  me, 
and  that,  catching  him  in  the  act,  I  seized  and 
throttled  him  unmercifully,  and  that  then 
Frances  turned  fiercely  upon  me,  calling  me  a 
*' cowardly  wretch."  And  that  was  all  of  that 
dream  I  now  remember,  or  care  to  recall — it 
made  me  miserable  for  days  afterward.  Not 
that  I  believed  in  dreams-  for  I  did  not,  and  do 
not  now — deeming  them  as  nothing  more  or  less 
than   the   wild  pranks  of  the   imagination  when 


Friendships  Love  and  Jealousy,       107 

the  reason,  its  keeper,  is  dormant ;  but  the  ter- 
rible rebuke  conveyed  by  the  fierce  look  and  the 
withering  epithet  from  so  unexpected  a  source 
sent  a  terror  to  my  very  soul,  from  which  I  did 
not  soon  wholly  recover. 


IN  THE  COUNTRY. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

IN    THE    COUNTRY. 

^^^ROMPTLY  at  the  appointed  time  on  the 
■^  next  Saturday,  Joe  Startling  entered  my 
office,  ready  for  the  journey  by  railway  to  Trow- 
bridge, which  station  we  reached  an  hour  before 
sunset.  Engaging  quarters  at  a  hotel  at  the 
little  village  clustered  around  the  station,  after 
partaking  of  refreshments,  we  started  for  the 
farm-house  of  Deacon  Jones,  which  we  reached 
after  a  leisurely  walk  of  half  an  hour.  We  found 
the  good  old  Deacon  at  home — also,  his  wife — 
likewise  his  daughter.  Our  visit  was,  of  course, 
quite  unexpected,  but  our  welcome  was  none 
the  less  cordial.  Mary  Jones  was  delightful — 
buoyant  in  spirits,  brilliant   in   conversation,  and 


1 1 2  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

beautiful  as  an  angel.  She  would  have  charmed 
the  most  stoical  man  in  the  world.  The  even- 
ing passed  quickly  and  joyously,  and  it  was 
along  toward  the  midnight  hour  when  Joe  and  I 
bade  the  family  good  night  and  returned  to  the 
station  and  to  our  rooms  in  the  hotel. 

My  plan  was  for  both  of  us  to  spend  this 
evening  together  at  Deacon  Jones',  and  the  next 
at  Mr.  Bingle's,  with  Laura.  By  special  invita- 
tion of  the  Deacon,  we  agreed  to  accompany 
him  and  his  family  to  the  little  church  on  the 
hill  near  by  on  the  ensuing  Sunday.  He  would 
send  his  carriage  for  us,  he  said,  and  Mary 
would  drive. 

A  summer  Sabbath-day  in  the  country,  when 
the  sky  is  cloudless,  a  slight  breeze  stirring,  and 
a  smiling  and  yet  solemn  peacefulness  pervades 
all  nature,  can  be  fully  appreciated  only  by  him 
who  seldom  enjoys  the  luxury.  The  very  birds 
in  the  trees  seem  to  have  prepared  themselves 
to  observe  the  day  with  more  joyous  songs  than 
those  they  warble  on  ordinary  days ;  the  cattle  in 


In  the  Country.  113 

the  fields  move  among  the  pastures  more  slowly 
and  solemnly  and  lie  down  in  the  shade  of  tree 
or  grove  oftener  and  longer  at  a  time,  and  seem 
to  chew  ther  cud  more  leisurely  and  philosophic- 
ally than  on  other  days ;  the  sky  looks  calmer, 
and  its  blue  is  deeper,  and  you  can  apparently 
look  farther  up  into  the  heaven  of  our  imagina- 
tion ;  the  men,  women  and  children  you  meet 
are  dressed  for  a  holiday,  and  their  humanity 
beams  in  their  countenances  and  exposes  itself 
in  their  walks  and  conversation  as  on  no  other 
day ;  the  people  with  good  hearts  and  good  con- 
sciences feel  better  on  that  day,  in  the  country, 
and  are  really  nearer  God  and  Heaven.  Sun- 
day in  a  large  town  is  no  Sabbath  at  all  as  com- 
pared to  that  of  the  country,  with  its  calm,  quiet 
and  quieting  influences,  its  simple-hearted  in- 
habitants, its  sumptuousness  of  nature,  its  free- 
dom from  art,  its  thousand  glories  of  earth  and 
sky  and  air  and  stream.  Happy  they  who  live 
in  the  great,  broad,  peaceful  country,  where 
there  is  no  crowding,  no  elbowing  one  another. 


114  Tlie  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

no  "  style,"  no  empty  pretentiousness,  no  dwarf- 
ing conventionalities,  on  Sunday  nor  any  other 
day ;  but  where  there  is  freedom  in  its  broadest 
and  most  beautiful  significance,  and  rest  in  its 
holiest  and  most  refreshing  sense. 

Feelings  and  sentiments  like  these  filled  our 
minds  and  souls,  while  on  that  bright  and  placid 
Sabbath  morning,  Joe  Startling  and  I  strolled 
for  an  hour  or  two  through  the  fields  and  groves 
and  by  the  side  of  a  modest  brook  in  the 
vicinity  of  Trowbridge  Station.  Neither  of  us 
accustomed  to  the  country,  it  was  a  rare  luxury. 
We  had  often  seen  the  country  before,  but  it 
never  seemed  so  much  like  a  paradise  as  on  that 
lovely  August  morning.  The  wild  flowers  never 
bloomed  so  gaily ;  the  grass  never  was  so  green 
and  soft  and  luxurious  ;  the  birds  never  sang 
and  whistled  and  twittered  so  joyously;  the 
summer  sun  never  shone  so  mercifully,  and  the 
atmosphere  of  the  morning  never  seemed  so 
pure  and  exhilarating. 

We    walked    on    until    we    reached    a   well- 


In  the  Country,  115 

traveled  highway,  when,  seating  ourselves  on  the 
stump  of  a  tree  by  the  wayside  to  rest,  we  pres- 
ently saw  a  carriage  approaching,  in  which,  as  it 
drew  nearer,  we  could  see  two  occupants — man 
and  woman;  and  when  it  had  almost  reached 
us,  I  heard  a  voice  and  a  ringing  laugh  that 
were  very  familiar  to  my  ear — they  were  the 
voice  and  the  laugh  of  Laura  Ferris.  She  had 
evidently  recognized  us  before  we  had  even  sus- 
pected seeing  friends.  The  occupants  of  the 
carriage  were  Mr.  Bingle  and  his  niece.  The 
greeting  on  both  sides  and  all  around  was  cor- 
dial— for  Joe  was  well  acquainted  with  these 
friends  of  mine — and  after  making  due  explana- 
tion of  our  happening  there  at  this  time,  (which 
was  that  we  came  to  spend  a  quiet  day  in  the 
country,  and  Avere  intending  to  call  at  Mr. 
Bingle's  in  the  evening,)  they  insisted  that  we 
must  get  into  their  carriage  and  drive  home  with 
them,  Laura  saying  very  earnestly  that  she  had 
"  something  very  important"  to  tell  me.  Explain- 
ing that  we  had   an  engagement  to   accompany 


Ii6  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

Deacon  Jones'  family  to  church  that  morning, 
we  excused  ourselves,  and,  after  promising  to 
meet  us  at  the  church,  they  drove  on,  leaving 
Joe  and  I  to  retrace  our  steps  to  the  hotel,  where 
we  had  scarcely  arrived  when  Miss  Mary  Jones, 
alone  and  beautiful  as  a  peri  fresh  from  Paradise, 
drove  up  in  a  carriage,  in  which  we  soon  were 
seated.  I  offered  to  take  the  reins,  but  she, 
thanking  me,  declared  she  was  passionately  fond 
of  driving  horses,  and  I  must  confess  that  she 
handled  the  two  spirited  chargers  with  greater 
skill  than  I  could  have  managed  them — in  fact 
she  drove  them  with  the  confidence  and  dex- 
terity of  an  experienced  horseman.  Soon  we 
reached  tl  e  gate  of  the  Jones  mansion,  where 
the  Deacon  was  waiting  for  us.  Making  some 
excuse  for  his  wife  not  accompanying  us,  as  she 
had  intended,  he  joined  us  in  the  capacious 
family  carriage,  which  was  of  the  olden  style,  and 
Mary  Jones  drove  us  quickly  to  the  little  church 
on  the  hill,  a  mile  away. 

"A  neighbor  died  this  past  week,"  remarked 


In  the  Country,  117 

the  Deacon,  as  we  were  slowly  walking  toward 
the  church  dooi*,  "and  the  services  in  the 
church  this  forenoon  will  be'  in  respect  to  his 
death.  The  pastor  is  absent  on  his  summer 
vacation,  and,  by  special  request,  I  have. con- 
sented to  take  charge  of  the  services." 

A  death  in  the  country,  like  a  summer's  Sab- 
bath-day in  the  country,  is  a  more  solemn  event 
than  is  a  similar  occurrence  in  a  large  town.  In 
the  country  the  inhabitants  are  few  and  scattered, 
and  when  one  of  them  dies  a  vacancy  is  made 
that  is  both  seen  and  felt ;  whereas,  in  the  town, 
where  many  live,  many  also  die,  and  one  death 
in  the  community,  even  if  it  be  that  of  an  im- 
portant person,  is  like  the  falhng  of  one  tree  in 
a  dense  forest.  In  the  town  every  man  is  but  a 
small  part  of  a  mass,  while  in  the  country  there 
is  no  mass — every  one  being  in  a  measure  iso- 
lated and  having  a  specific  identity  and  oneness. 
When  one  dies  there,  it  is  like  the  cutting  down 
or  falling  down  of  a  tree  that  had  long  stood  in 


Il8  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

the  middle  of  a  field,  where  all  could  see  it,  and       ^ 
where,  having  fallen,  all  would  remark  it. 

The  faces  of  all  those  who  were  gathered  into 
the  small  church  were  sedate,  and  you  could 
feel  that  you  were  in  an  atmosphere  of  sighs  and 
heavyness.  The  people  were  sad — they  were 
mourners — the  grief  of  their  bosoms  was  re- 
flected in  the  solemnity  of  their  countenances. 
It  was  a  congregation  of  country  people — old 
men  and  old  women — young  men  and  maidens — 
and  here  and  there  a  white-headed  boy  and  a 
silken-haired  girl — all  dressed  plainly  but  clean- 
ly, and  most  of  them  very  neatly. 

The  time  for  the  opening  of  the  services 
arrived.  An  elderly  gentleman  arose  from  a 
front  seat  and  read  an  old-fashioned  hymn ;  the 
congregation  arose  as  orderly  as  a  company  of 
soldiers  would  move  to  the  music  of  a  funeral 
march,  and  they  sang  the  mournful  old  hymn  as 
we  were  wont  to  hear  it  long  ago  in  the  village 
church  of  our  early  boyhood.  With  every  note 
you  could  hear  a  sigh — with  every  pause   you 


In  the  Cotnitry.  119 

could  imagine  the  dropping  of  tears — with  every 
rise  and  fall  of  the  combined  voices  your  own 
heart  would  swell  and  relax  'in  sympathy  with 
tie  emotions  of  the  sorrowing  friends.  The 
hjmn  sang,  the  congregation  solemnly  sank 
dcwn  into  the  seats  again,  and  then,  after  a  short 
pause.  Deacon  Jones  arose  and  advanced  to  the 
front  of  the  pulpit. 

'*  Good  neighbors  and  friends,"  he  said,  slowly, 
and  with  a  trembling  voice,  "  we  have  assembled 
in  this  holy  temple  at  this  time  to  give  expres- 
sion in  words  to  the  emotions  of  our  hearts,  at 
tVe  death  of  our  old  neighbor,  Mr.  Fergus,  who 
departed  this  life  on  last  Wednesday,  and  whose 
Ifeless  form  now  lies  buried  in  yonder  grave- 
yard. You  all  knew  him  as  we  all  know  each 
other.  A  good  man — honorable  in  all  the  deal- 
.ngs  and  relations  of  life — a  Christian  by  profes- 
sion and  in  practice — a  faithful  citizen,  a  peace- 
ful, kindly  neighbor — the  deceased  commanded 
and  received  our  respect,  our  esteem,  and  our 
confidence.      The    sadness    of   our   hearts — our 


I20  The  Loves  of  a  Lazvyer. 

silent  tears — our  unaffected  sorrow  witness  the 
greatness  of  our  conscious  loss  by  his  death." 

Then,  wiping  the  big  tears  from  his  cheeks, 
and  pausing  for  a  moment  to  suppress  emotions 
that  could  with  difficulty  »be  controlled,  te 
resumed  : 

"And  what  more  can  we  say — what  more 
need  be  said — except  to  apply  to  ourselves  tie 
lesson  which  the  occasion  teaches?  He  has 
only  taken,  in  advance  of  us,  the  road  which  ve 
all  must  take  at  last — the  path  that  leads  down 
into  the  grave.  He  has  gone  only  a  few  days, 
or  at  best  only  a  very  few  years,  before  us.  Let 
us  pray  God  that  we  may  go  as  peacefully,  hap. 
pily  as  he  has — that  we  may  be  as  well  prepared 
as  he  was  to  meet  our  Creator  in  eternity." 

The  Deacon  spake  these  few  appropriate 
words  very  slowly  and  impressively,  and  when 
he  sat  down  almost  every  head  in  that  congrega- 
tion was  bowed  down,  and  there  was  scarcely  an 
eye  that  was  not  moist  with  tears.  It  was  a 
model  funeral  sermon — one  of  few,  simple  words, 


In  the  Coimtry.  121 

but  every  word  befitting — and  it  seemed  to  me, 
a  stranger  and  a  spectator,  that  it  was  z.  perfect 
sermon  for  the  occasion,  and  that,  had  he  said 
one  word  more  or  one  word  less,  or  had  other 
words  been  chosen  than  those  in  which  he 
expressed  his  few  measured  and  solemn  utter- 
ances, it  would  not  have  been  so. 

The  congregation  then  sat  quietly — so  quietly 
that  you  could  almost  hear  your  heart  beat — for 
the  space  of  several  minutes,  as  if  to  give  all  an 
opportunity  to  ponder  and  realize  the  solemn 
truth  the  good  Deacon  had  uttered.  A  short 
prayer  was  made  by  another  father  of  the 
church  ;  then  a  closing  hymn  was  sung  by  the 
congregation,  less  solemn  than  the  first,  with 
more  of  heaven  in  it  than  the  grave ;  and  then 
the  Deacon,  raising  his  right  hand  upwards,  pro- 
nounced this  benediction  :  "  May  the  Almighty 
God  of  the  Universe  bless,  protect  and  guide  us 
all  while  we  live,  and  at  death  take  us  to  him- 
self in  the  realms  of  unending  happiness."     And 


122  TJie  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

the  response,  hearty  and  distinct,  came  up  from 
all  over  the  house,  "  Amen  !" 

The  services  were  ended — the  people  slowly- 
moved  out  of  the  church,  and,  after  lingering 
awhile,  conversing  together,  in  little  groups,  in 
the  church-yard  and  on  the  roadside,  dispersed, 
each  to  his  own  home.  Never  in  all  my  life  had 
I  attended  a  religious  service  which  affected  me 
more,  or  impressed  itself  more  deeply  upon  my 
memory,  than  the  brief,  appropriate,  sincere 
tribute  paid  by  his  surviving  neighbors  to  a  dead 
friend  in  that  little  country  church  on  the  hill. 
I  have  listened  to  the  masterly  eloquence  of  the 
greatest  preachers,  but,  to  my  mind,  as  I  recall 
them  now,  their  sermons  were  tame  and  power- 
less as  compared  to  the  brief,  simple,  eloquent 
funeral  sermon  of  good  Deacon  Jones,  who,  as 
he  afterwards  informed  me,  was  but  a  "  plain, 
common  man,"  without  any  opportunities  for 
education,  much  less  for  the  cultivation  cf  the 
oratorical  art,  in  his  early  years. 

And — need  I  say  it  ? — the  effect  of  that  funeral 


In  the  Country.  123 

incident,  with  the  Deacon's  judicious,  well-timed 
and  impressive  words  there  spoken,  and  with 
what,  sitting  beside  Mary  Jones  during  the  ser- 
vices, I  observed  of  her  deep-hearted  sympathy 
with  her  father  and  with  the  solemnity  of  the 
occasion — she  wept  and  sighed  as  though  the 
deceased  had  been  her  nearest,  dearest  friend — 
was  to  fan  the  already  burning  flame  of  my 
affections  toward  that  young  lady  :  and  when  we 
arose  from  our  seats,  and  were  advancing 
towards  the  door  in  the  aisle,  I  took  her  hand 
gently  into  mine,  and  whispered  :  "  Your  father 
is  a  saint.  Miss  Jones — and — and — for  his  sake, 
as  well  as  for  your  own,  I — I — I — "  but  I  did 
not  finish  my  intended  remark,  owing  to  the 
coming  up  of  Mr.  Bingle,  who  said  Laura  was 
waiting  at  the  church  door  to  speak  with  me. 
It  was  just  as  well,  I  suppose — ^just  as  well,  that 
I  did  not,  there  and  then,  say  to  Mary  Jones 
what  I  wished.  But  while  I  was  whispering  to 
her  she  pressed  my  hand,  and  that  was  enough. 


CROSS-PURPOSES. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CROSS-PURPOSES. 

ly^OMING  out  of  the  little  church  on  the 
hill,  I  met  Laura  at  the  door,  and  she 
requested  me  to  accompany  her  to  her  uncle's 
and  spend  the  remainder  of  the  day,  saying  she 
had  a  matter  of  great  moment  to  speak  to  me 
about,  alone.  It  was  quickly  arranged.  Laura 
and  Mary  Jones  arranged  it  in  a  twinkling. 
Trust  the  ladies  when  it  comes  to  arranging 
matters.  My  friend  Joe  was  to  accompany 
Deacon  Jones  and  Mary  to  their  home,  and  I 
was  to  accompany  Laura  and  her  uncle  to 
theirs ;  and  in  the  evening  Joe  and  Mary  were 
to  come  over  to  Laura  and  her  uncle's,  and 
thence  we  could  go  to  our  hotel  at  the  station  in 
the  evening,  as  we  desired,  for  an  early  start  in 


128  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

the  train  for  Westerly  next  morning.  That  is 
the  way  they  arranged  it,  and  of  course  Joe  and 
I  had  to  submit  and  acquiesce.  Laura  and 
Mary  both  insisted,  and  when  a  lady  insists,  all 
that  a  gallant  young  gentleman  can  do  is  to  bow 
his  head  and  give  hL  assent. 

So  that  is  the  way  it  was.  Joe  v^ent  home 
with  Mary  and  her  father,  while  I  went  home 
with  Laura  and  her  uncle.  I  must  confess  to 
you  that  the  arrangement  did  not  meet  with  my 
cordial  concurrence ;  I  did  not  like  the  idea  of 
Joe  Startling,  chum  and  friend  of  mine  though 
he  was,  spending  an  entire  afternoon  alone  with 
angelic  Mary  Jones,  whom  I  admired,  on  seeing 
her  on  this  occasion,  more  than  ever  before,  and 
the  sincere  respect  and  veneration  with  which  1 
became  inspired  for  her  saintly  father,  after  that 
impressive  service  in  the  church,  had  the  effect 
of  stimulating  the  esteem — shall  I  call  it  love.'* — 
with  which  I  had  from  the  very  first  become 
inspired  regarding  her.      But  the  ladies  them- 


Cross-Purposes,  1 29 

selves  had  arranged  the  programme,  and  submis- 
sion was  a  necessity  of  the  hour. 

Dinner  at  noon — a  chat  with-the  family  in  the 
parlor — a  stroll  through  the  garden  and  the  lawn 
with  Laura — tea  in  the  evening,  and  then  a 
moonlight  walk.  These  were  the  incidents  of 
my  Sunday  visit  at  Mr.  Bingle's.  But  this  is  a 
mere  outline.  What  was  said  between  Laura 
and  I  during  that  eventful  afternoon  and  even- 
ing would  fill  volumes.  I  can  report  for  the 
reader's  edification  only  one  bit  of  the  conversa- 
tion, which  occurred  after  leaving  the  parlor  for 
a  stroll  in  the  garden  : 

"  What  is  it,  Laura,  that  you  are  so  anxious  to 
tell  me  —  that  'important  matter'  you  hinted 
at.?" 

"Well,"  she  replied,  "before  I  tell  you,  I  wish 
to  know  what  really  are  the  personal  relations 
between  you  and  my  good  cousin  Frances 
Wilkins." 

"  The  relations  between  us,  as  you  know,"  I 
9 


130  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

said,  "  have  always  been  very  friendly ;  I  esteem 
Frances  very  much." 

"  But  you  don't  really  love  her,  do  you,  Sam  V* 

"  I  cannot  honestly  say  that  I  do  not,"  was  my 
frank  reply.  "  But  why  do  you  ask  me  these 
questions?  What  has  Frances  to  do  with  the 
important  matter  you  have  to  tell  me.^" 

"Only  this,  Sam,"  she  said,  pressing  my  arm 
impulsively,  *'  that  Frances  Wilkins  has  promised 
to  marry  another  man." 

"  What !     Mr.  Gentry  r 

"Yes,  Mr.  Gentry!" 

"  How  do  you  learn  this  V 

"  I  received  a  letter  this  very  morning  from 
Frances  herself,  in  which  she  tells  me  so — and, 
what  is  more,  Sam,  there  is  a  very  mysterious 
expression  in  her  letter,  which  annoys  me,  as  I 
think  it  will  you,  but  you  may  know  its  signifi- 
cance better  than  I  do,  and  therefore  I  tell  you 
of  it.  The  expression  is  this,"  and  she  pro- 
duced the  letter,  and  pointed  out  to  me  these 
words :    "  And  now,  Laura,  I  wish  you  joy  of 


Cross-Purposes,  131 

Sam  Traverse — he  is  yours  without  any  further 
rivalry  from  me.  I  have  been  apprised  of  the 
loving  time  he  and  you  had  together  lately  at 
uncle  Bingle's." 

I  was  astonished  at  first — then  vexed;  and  I 
observed  that  Laura  watched  me  very  closely — 
studied  my  face  as  if  to  read  therein  the  revela- 
tion of  a  mystery. 

"  Laura,"  I  said,  after  a  brief  pause,  in  order 
to  compose  my  confused  senses,  "  I  am  surprised 
at  this,  and  yet  am  not  surprised  when  I  come 
to  think  of  some  recent  incidents  at  your  aunt 
Wilkins'  house."  And  then  I  gave  her  a  history 
of  Mr.  Gentry's  visit;  of  Frances'  exhibition 
of  jealousy  when  I  told  her  of  my  professional 
visit  to  Deacon  Jones',  which  so  accidentally 
resulted  in  my  meeting  her  (Laura,)  at  her 
uncle's,  and  of  the  subsequent  conversation  at 
the  tea-table,  in  which  Frances  and  her  mother 
complimented  Mr.  Gentry.  **It  is  well  as  it  is, 
Laura.  Frances  and  I  may  have  thought  much 
of  each  other,  as  you  and  I  did  when  you  were 


132  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

one  of  our  family ;  but  no  confessions  of  love 
have  ever  been  exchanged  between  us,  and  I  do 
not  see,  under  the  circumstances,  why  she  should 
hot  love  and  marry  another  man." 

"I  will  tell  you  now,  Sam,"  Laura  said,  "and 
tell  you  frankly,  that  Frances  and  I  have  often 
had  little  contests  and  fits  of  jealousy  in  refer- 
ence to  yourself,  as  to  which  of  us  you  thought 
most  of.  You  now  tell  me  that  no  confessions  of 
love  have  ever  passed  between  you  and  her ; — 
such  confessions  have  passed  between  you  and 
me,  though — and — and,"  she  hesitated,  and  then 
asked,  *'  Now  tell  me,  honest  and  true,  you  meant 
it,  did  you  not,  Sam  ?" 

And  she  pressed  the  arm  which  she  held  very 
closely  and  looked  up  into  my  face  very  ear- 
nestly. 

"  Laura,  what  I  have  said  to  you  I  viean  with 
all  my  heart ;  and  I  believe — yes,  I  know — -you 
mean  it,  too." 

Much  more  was  said — words  of  earnest  senti- 
ment— words   too  sacred  to  be  repeated   here. 


Cross-Purposes,  133 

The  afternoon  passed  off  pleasantly  at  Mr. 
Bingle's — so  did  the  evening  in  the  moonlight. 
At  the  same  time  I  could  not  -help  wondering  to 
myself,  occasionally,  what  Joe  and  Mary  were 
saying  and  doing  over  at  Deacon  Jones'  together. 
The  evening  hours  were  speeding  their  course 
into  the  night,  when,  while  sitting  on  the  ve- 
randa, Laura  and  I  heard  voices,  and  saw  two 
forms  approaching  in  the  pathway  through  an 
adjoining  field,  by  the  moonlight.  The  voices 
and  the  forms  were  those  of  Joe  and  Mary. 
They  joined  us,  but  the  hour  was  so  late  that  we 
could  not  tarry  much  longer.  Mary  was  to 
spend  the  night  with  Laura,  and  we  two  beaux 
bade  them  good  night,  and  directed  our  steps 
toward  our  hotel  at  the  station. 


A  FRIEND'S  MYSTERY. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


A    FRIEND  S    MYSTERY. 


^AM,"  said  Joe,  while  we  were  leisurely- 
walking  down  the  highway  toward  the 
hotel,  after  leaving  the  ladies  at  Mr.  Bingle's 
veranda,  "  that  Miss  Mary  Jones  is  a  perfect 
treasure — as  beautiful  as  could  be,  and  as  bright 
and  lovely  as  she  is  beautiful." 

**  I  am  glad  you  agree  with  me  in  this  respect," 
I  said ;  "  but  how  about  Laura  ? — what  think  you 
of  her.?" 

"  There  is  really  but  little  choice  between  the 
two,"  he  said,  hesitatingly;  ^'both  are  charming 
ladies,  worthy  of  the  love  of  the  best  men  that 
ever  breathed.  Laura  would  make  you  a  good 
wife,  Sam — I  know  that,  and  I  could  very  readily 
perceive  that  she  adores  you.     As  regards  Mary 


138  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

Jones,  I  must  acknowledge  to  you  that  she  is  the 
first  young  woman  that  I  have  ever  met  that  I 
could  fall  in  love  with,  completely  and  over- 
whelmingly. She  is  a  most  delightful  young 
lady." 

"Well,"  I  said.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you  so 
enthusiastic.  You  are  in  raptures  over  Mary, 
and  yet  suggest  that  Laura  would  make  me  a 
good  wife.  Why  might  not  Mary  make  a 
better?" 

"  I  could  tell  you,  Sam,  but  you  must  excuse 
me  now.  You  marry  Laura  first,  then  I  will  tell 
you." 

"More  mystery!"  I  exclaimed. 

"  You  invited  me  down  here  to  help  you  come 
to  a  decision  as  between  these  two  ladies.  All  I 
can  say,  as  the  result  of  what  I  have  seen  and 
know  of  them  now,  is,  marry  Laura  Ferris.  You 
will  never  regret  it — I'm  sure  of  that." 

"You  may  be  right — you  may  be  right,"  I  said, 
musingly;  "but  I  would  like  to  know  why  you 
advise  me  thus." 


A  Friend's  Mystery,  139 

**Well,"  he  replied,  "in  the  first  place,  you 
know  her  well,  and  know  that  she  is  an  excellent 
lady ;  in  the  next  place,  she  knows  you  well,  and 
loves  you;  and,  in  the  last  place,  you  are  over 
head  and  ears  in  love  with  her." 

This  ended  our  conversation  on  that  topic  for 
that  night.  Reaching  the  hotel  at  the  station, 
we  retired,  rising  early  next  morning,  and,  taking 
the  first  train,  were  speedily  transported  back  to 
Westerly. 

The  mystery  involved  in  Joe's  remark  — 
"marry  Laura  first,  then  I  will  tell  you" — both- 
ered me  from  the  moment  he  uttered  it.  The 
same  indescribable  emotion  came  over  me  that  I 
experienced  when  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  Frances,  at 
the  breakfast  table,  praised  Mr.  Gentry  to  me. 
It  was  jealousy.  I  at  once  suspected  that  it  was 
as  I  had  feared  it  would  be — that  that  Sunday 
afternoon  and  evening  alone  with  the  pretty 
Mary  Jones  would  result  in  Joe's  falling  in  love 
with  her  and  she  with  him.  The  thought  at  first 
troubled   me — and  it  continued  to  trouble   me 


I40  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

even  after  I  had  reached  my  office  and  tried  to  ^ 
dispose  of  some  professional  business  that  was 
awaiting  my  attention.  Somehow,  while  I  was 
drawing  up  a  brief  for  a  client,  in  a  pending  suit, 
the  name  of  Mary  Jones  and  the  pretty  face  of 
Mary  Jones  would,  in  spite  of  me,  come  flitting 
like  a  thing  of  beauty  across  my  mind,  and, 
involuntarily,  I  would  shake  my  head  and  pro- 
test myself  a  silly  fool.  And  then,  looking  out 
at  my  window,  I  chanced  to  see,  passing  by  on 
the  street,  a  short,  sprightly  lass,  with  auburn 
hair,  reminding  me,  with  a  thrill  of  joyousness, 
of  Laura  Ferris — vivacious,  affectionate,  confid- 
ing creature — and  then,  pacing  the  office  floor,  1 
finally  declared  to  myself  that  Joe  was  right — 
his  advice  was  good ;  I  felt  that  I  indeed  loved 
Laura,  that  she  indeed  loved  me,  and  that  she 
would  indeed  be  a  good  wife.  "  Why  then 
bother  my  head  further  about  Mary  Jones  or 
Frances  Wilkins,  or  anybody  else?" 

I  wonder — I  wondered  then,  and  have  a  thou- 
sand times  wondered  since — whether  young  men 


A  Friend's  Mystery,  141 

are,  as  a  rule,  so  unstable  of  mind,  so  irresolute 
of  purpose,  as  regards  the  question  of  the  be- 
stowal of  their  affections  and  the  choice  of  a 
wife,  as  I  was.  After  these  many  years  of 
experience  and  observation  in  the  world  and  its 
society,  I  have  never  found  exactly  such  a  case 
as  mine — such  an  instance  of  uncertainty,  inde- 
cision and  suspense ;  and  yet  such  cases  may  be 
as  plenty  as  there  are  young  men  and  young 
women,  for  aught  I  know — it  is  impossible  to 
read  hearts  or  to  penetrate  the  secrets  of  man's 
inmost  nature.  But  I  hope  men  are  not,  as  a 
rule,  bothered  and  self-tormented  as  I  was  in 
this  re2:ard ;  if  they  are,  I  pity  them ;  they  are 
deserving  of  compassion,  for  they  do  not  suspect 
what  fools  they  are.  Were  I,  at  my  present  time 
of  life,  to  be  asked  my  honest  advice  by  a  young 
man  who  was  halting  between  two  or  three 
opinions — or,  rather,  between  two,  three  or  more 
female  objects  of  his  affectionate  contemplation, 
I  would  bluntly  tell  him  :  "  Interest  yourself  in 
only  one  at  a  time,   and   if  you    are  convinced 


142  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

that  she  is  the  right  one,  take  her,  and  let  that 
be  the  end." 

Perhaps,  however,  I  am  not  a  good  adviser  in 
this  matter.  Having  myself  not  had  the  sense 
to  act  according  to  this  rule,  possibly — I  say 
possibly — I  may  not  have  sense  enough  even 
now  to  give  safe  advice,  or  any  advice,  on  the 
subject.  But  I  give  it  as  my  candid  opinion 
that  if  some  wise  friend  had  given  me  some  such 
advice  when  I  first  commenced  floundering  in 
the  midst  of  my  great  quandary,  it  would  have 
served  me  to  good  purpose.  And  yet  you  are 
right,  sir, — and  I  will  not  stop  to  dispute  it — 
when  you  say  that  most  young  men  are  queer 
fellows — that  you  must  let  the  human  nature 
that  is  in  them  work  out  its  own  destiny — that, 
by  giving  them  advice  upon  such  subjects, 
you  are  only  wasting  your  precious  breath.  It 
might — possibly  and  perhaps — have  proved  so 
in  my  case.     Very  likely — very  likely. 


AN  ORDEAL. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

AN    ORDEAL. 

'NTERING  the  drawing-room  at  Mrs.  Wil- 
kins'  one  evening,  many  days  after  the 
events  of  the  foregoing  chapters — the  mother 
and  daughter  having  in  the  meantime  treated 
me  with  all  the  friendly  consideration  of  former 
times---I  soon  discovered  in  their  faces  and 
actions  that  something  unusual  had  occurred — 
that  a  cloud  had  suddenly  come  athwart  their 
domestic  sky.     It  was  soon  explained. 

"  I  received  a  letter  from  Laura  to-day,"  re- 
marked Frances,  addressing  me,  and  then  she 
commenced  sobbing,  but  presently  continued, 
'*  and  she  tells  me,  Sam,  that  you  and  she  are 
betrothed." 

10 


146  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

''That  is  true,  Frances,"  I  said — and  so  it 
was — Laura  and  I,  by  an  interchange  of  letters, 
had  within  a  few  days  pledged  each  other  to 
each  other  in  real  earnest — "  But  why,"  I  asked, 
"should  you  feel  badly  about  it?" 

"  I  suppose  there  is  no  good  reason  why  I 
should,  Sam,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  trembled 
with  emotion ;  "  but  you  might  at  least  have  in- 
trusted the  secret  to  me,  who  have  so  long  been 
as  a  sister  to  you.  And — and,"  she  sobbed  as 
if  her  heart  would  break,  *'  I  suppose  I  ought 
not  to  tell  you  now,  but  I  have  loved  you,  Sam ; 
but  it  is  now  too  late  to  talk  about  that.  I  feel 
very,  very  miserable.  Pardon  this  confession 
and  this  exhibition  of  childishness." 

"  But  I  had  learned,  Frances — and  not  from 
yourself,  either,"  I  said,  "that  you  are  engaged 
to  be  married  to  Mr.  Gentry." 

"It  was  Laura  who  told  you  that,"  she  said; 
"in  a  moment  of  foolish  jealousy  I  wrote  her 
that,  wickedly  thinking  to  annoy  both  you  and 
her.     Mr.  Gentry  appears  to  be  a  fine  gentle- 


An  Ordeal.  147 

man,  and  is  a  suitor  for  my  hand,  but  there  is  no 
engagement  between  us,  and  probably  never 
will  be." 

"Really,  Frances,"  I  said,  rising,  "I  am  very 
sorry  that  events  have  taken  the  turn  they  have. 
You  and  I  have  been  warm  friends  so  long  that 
I  grieve  to  know  that  I  have  been  the  innocent 
cause  of  giving  you  pain.  We  must  and  will  be 
friends — yes,  sister  and  brother — hereafter  as  we 
have  been  heretofore.  'Laura  and  I  are  engaged 
to  be  married,  it  is  true — and  we  love  each  other 
Very  truly,  you  may  be  assured.  The  reason  I 
did  not  apprise  you  of  my  intentions  and  plans 
was  that  I  supposed  it  was  a  fact  that  you  and 
Mr.  Gentry  were  engaged.  You  remember  how 
you  distrusted  me  when  I  returned  from  my 
accidental  meeting  with  Laura  at  Trowbridge, 
and  how  you  and  your  mother  spoke  of  Mr. 
Gentry  at  the  tea-table  that  evening.  That, 
taken  in  connection  with  what  you  wrote  to 
Laura,  decided  my  course.  All  I  can  say  now — 
and  I  say  it  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart — is, 


148  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

that  I  have  always  loved  you,  and  am  sincerely 
sorry  that  I  did  not  know  your  feelings  and  the 
true  state  of  affairs." 

I  suddenly  stopped.  Something  seemed  to 
whisper  to  my  soul  that  I  was  saying  too  much 
and  I  concluded  abruptly.  Heavens !  what  a 
fool  I  am — I  thought — ready  to  fall  in  love  anew 
with  her  who  was  really  my  first  love,  after  I  had 
pledged  myself,  heart  and  hand,  to  another !  I,  a 
lawyer,  who  is  looked  to  for  safe  advice  by  his 
clients — hoping  to  be  a  judge  on  the  bench, 
sometime,  perhaps — have  not  sufficient  power 
of  judgment  or  decision  to  know  my  own  mind 
for  a  week  at  a  time  in  a  matter  so  immediately 
personal  'to  myself  as  that  of  a  preference 
between  women !  What  would  be  the  result  if  I 
should  be  called  upon  to  give  -an  opinion  or 
pass  judgment  upon  an  intricate  question  in 
which  the  most  sacred  interests  of  individuals  or 
communities  were  involved }  This  would  be  a 
matter  of  reason,  however,  rather  than  feeling. 


A71  OrdeaL  149 

But,  nevertheless,  what  a-  shallow,  fickle,  capri- 
cious fellow  I  am ! 

These  were  the  thoughts  \\\zX  passed  like  elec- 
tric currents  through  my  mind  in  that  moment 
while  sitting  alone  .  in  the  presence  of  that 
majestic,  noble  young  woman — the  very  ideal 
of  womanly  dignity  and  tenderness — while  she, 
dear  soul,  sat  sobbing  and  sighing  by  my  side. 

^^Yes,  yes,  Sam,"  she  finally  said,  ^*we  will 
always  be  friends,  but  you  know  we  can  never  be 
more  than  that." 

"More  than  that!"  I  exclaimed,  for  I  had  now 
recovered  myself.  "  To  be  true  and  good 
friends,  Frances,  is  much — very  much,  indeed, 
as  this  world  goes.  But,  trust  me,  I  will  be  as 
good  a  friend  to  you  as  a  real  brother  would  be. 
And  I  wish  you  would  still,  and  always,  regard 
me  in  that  light.  I  ask  that,  wherever  we  may 
be  and  whatever  we  may  be,  you  will  ever  regard 
me  as  a  real  brother — one  who  feels  all  the  in- 
terest in  you  and  for  you  that  a  real  brother  can. 
I  mean  this,  Frances — I  do,  indeed." 


1 50  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

She  thanked  me  and  said,  "  I  know  you  mean 
it,  Sam — I  know  you  do." 

Just  then  her  mother  entered  the  room,  much 
to  my  relief;  for  then  other  matters  than  those 
of  the  heart  were  the  subjects  of  conversation, 
and  one  of  the  severest  ordeals  of  my  life  was 
ended. 


A  REVELATION. 


CH AFTER  XV. 


A    REVELATION. 


FITTING  in  my  office  one  afternoon,  I  was 
gratified  at  receiving  a  call  from  my  friend 
and  late  client,  Deacon  Jones,  of  Trowbridge. 
I  received  him  cordially,  of  course. 

"  I  came  in  specially  to  see  you  and  consult 
with  you,"  he  said,  after  being  seated,  "on  a 
matter  of  the  utmost  importance  to  me,  Mr. 
Traverse,  and  without  taking  up  any  more  of 
your  time  than  is  necessary,  I  will  at  once  make 
known  my  business." 

"  Mr.  Jones,  I  assure  you  that  as  much  of 
myself  and  of  my  time  as  you  require  is  not 
only  now,  but  always,  at  your  service,"  I  re- 
marked. 


1 54  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  and  appreciate  your  cour- 
tesy. I  came  to  ask  you  regarding  Mr.  Start- 
ling, your  friend — who  is  he,  and  what  is  he  ?" 

"A  very  fine  gentleman,  I  assure  you,"  I 
replied;  "  he  was  a  comrade  of  mine  in  college, 
and  is  a  most  honorable  and  worthy  man." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  he  rejoined; 
■^^you  know  him  well,  do  you.^" 

"  There  is  no  man  in  the  world  I  know  better, 
and  no  one  in  whom  I  have  more  confidence. 
But  why  do  you  ask  concerning  him  V 

"  I  come  to  you  in  the  strictest  privacy,  and 
will  tell  you  the  object  of  my  inquiry.  He  has 
asked  my  daughter's  hand  in  marriage,  and  they 
have  asked  my  consent  to  their  union.  My 
daughter  is  a  very  good  girl,  has  been  carefully 
educated,  and  has  ever  .been  dutiful  and  precious 
to  us.  It  is  hard  for  my  wife  and  I  to  make  up 
our  minds  that  she  may  marry  and  leave  the 
home  of  which  she  has  so  long  been  the  light 
and  life.  But,  I  suppose,  this  must  be  so  sooner 
or  later;"  and  the  old  gentleman   sighed  deeply 


A  Revelation  155 

as  he  said  this.  "  We  cannot  in  reason  expect 
our  children,  pr-ecious  as  they  are  to  us,  to 
remain  with  us  always.  We  inust  be  willing  to 
let  them  do  as  we  did  ourselves — marry  and 
establish  homes  and  families  of  their  own.  I 
am  persuaded  that  Mary  is  greatly  devoted  to 
this  young  gentleman,  and  he  seems  to  be  a  very 
likely  man." 

"Have  no  fear  of  him,"  I  said,  with  emphasis; 
*'  he  will  prove  a  good  husband  and  a  dutiful  and 
worthy  son-in-law.  I  know  him  very  well.  He 
is  one  of  the  most  respected  and  successful  mer- 
chants of  the  city,  and  is  the  very  model  of  an 
honest  and  trusty  gentleman." 

The  Deacon's  face,  which  had  on  it  an  anx- 
ious, troubled  expression  when  he  first  came  in, 
now  brightened  up,  and,  taking  my  hand,  he 
smilingly  and  earnestly  said:  "I  believe  you, 
*and  am  now  a  happy  man.  If,  as  you  say,  Mr. 
Startling  is  a  worthy  gentleman,  who  will  love 
and  cherish  the  dear  girl,  as  a  true  husband 
should,  and  as  she  deserves,  it  will  all  be  well, 


156  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

and  her  mother  and  father,  to  whom  she  is  as 
the  apple  of  their  eye,  will  feel  that  the  few 
remaining  years  of  their  lives  will  be  cheered  by 
the  consciousness  of  her  happiness.  Good  day, 
Mr.  Traverse — I  thank  you  very  heartily — good 
day!"  and  the  old  gentleman  departed  with  a 
light  heart. 

I  wonder  if  young  beaux  generally,  when  they 
sue  for  the  hands  and  hearts  of  the  daughters  of 
such  parents  as  Mary  Jones  had — good  people, 
who  rear  their  children  with  care  and  love  them 
fondly — have  anything  like  a  just  appreciation 
of  the  great  request  they  make,  and  the  great 
sacrifice  they  demand  of  them.  I  have  seen 
mothers  weep  and  fathers  look  sad  during  the 
marriage  service  that  gave  their  daughters  to  the 
possession  of  strangers.  When  I  was  a  very 
young  man  I  marvelled  at  this :  not  so  now,  lor 
I  have  learned  to  appreciate  their  situation,  and 
understand  how  like  plucking  out  the  heart  it  is 
for  fond  parents  to  give  up,  at  the  marriage 
altar,  the  daughters  of  their  years  of  care  and 


A  Revelation,  i$y 

affection.  They  see  their  beloved  ones  embark- 
ing upon  a  sea  that  is  new  to  them,  and  upon 
which  many  as  dear  and  precious  as  they  have 
found  rough  sailing,  and  even  fatal  shipwreck. 
Don't  wonder  at  a  parent's  anxiety — it  is  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  And,  as  I  now 
look  back  and  recall  this  confidential  interview 
with  good  old  Deacon  Jones,  I  honor  him  for 
the  anxiety  he  then  exhibited  to  know  who  Joe 
Startling  was,  and  for  the  relief  and  gratification 
he  manifested  when  assured  that  he  was  a  worthy 
gentleman. 

But  these  thoughts  did  not  occur  to  me  then. 
Another  subject  of  contemplation  occupied  my 
mind  after  the  Deacon's  departure.  I  recalled 
that  Sunday  visit  of  Joe  and  myself  to  the 
Joneses  and  the  Bingles,  and  the  misgivings  I 
then  had,  in  connection  with  my  own  purposes, 
of  the  propriety  of  the  arrangement  Laura  and 
Mary  made,  by  which  Joe  was  given  the  unex- 
pected privilege  of  spending  an  afternoon  and 
evening  with  the  Deacon's    charming  daughter. 


158  The  Loves  of  a  Laivyer. 

"It  turned  out  just  as  I  apprehended,"  I  mused 
to  myself,  "  and  now  I  see  that  my  sudden  and 
uncomfortable  feeling  of  jealousy,  when  Joe  ad- 
vised me  to  marry  Laura,  and  refused  to  tell  me 
why  he  commended  her  rather  than  Mary  to  me, 
was  not  without  reason/'  My  suspicion  was 
,  now  fully  confirmed.  Well,  so  it  goes ;  but  I 
wished  them  joy — I  did,  indeed — for  I  was  well 
aware  that  I  could  not,  without  joining  the 
Turks — there  were  no  Mormons  then — possess 
more  than  one  wife  at  a  time.  The  fates  had 
decreed  that  that  one  should  be  Laura,  and 
surely  I  should  not  begrudge  my  excellent  old 
chum  and  friend  the  possession  of  Mary.  But, 
somehow — so  preposterous  is  the  innate  nature 
of  man — I  could  not  at  first,  without  a  real 
struggle  of  contending  emotions,  reconcile  to  my 
ideas  of  right  and  duty  the  necessity  of  giving 
up  all  claim  to  that  lovely  and  beautiful  young 
woman.  Finally,  however,'  after  reproaching 
myself  for  my  selfishness,  unreasonableness  and 
folly;  after  reminding  myself  of  the  sacredness 


A  Revelation.  159 

of  my  plighted  faith  to  Laura;  after  analyzing 
and  weighing  my  real  feelings  toward  my  be- 
trothed, as  I  had  done  often  before,  and  satisfy- 
ing myself  of  the  genuineness  of  my  affection  for 
her;  after  recalling  all  the  pleasant  incidents  of 
my  association  with  her,  both  at  our  home  at 
Mrs.  Wilkins',  and  at  Mr.  Bingle's,  and  thinking 
of  her  many  words  and  acts  of  love  and  confi- 
dence; after  going  gravely  and  thoughtfully 
through  all  this  process  of  self-examination  and 
reflection,  I  reached  the  conclusion  that  Maxy 
Jones  belonged  as  much  and  as  rightfully  to 
Joe  Startling  as  Laura  Ferris  belonged  to  Sam 
Traverse,  and  that  henceforth  no  woman,  be  she 
ever  so  womanly,  no  maiden,  be  she  ever  so 
winning,  no  lady,  be  she  ever  so  beautiful — not 
even  if  she  be  the  very  queen  of  her  sex — shall 
divide  with  Laura  the  affection  of  my  heart — I 
owe  it  all  to  her — the  dear  sister  that  was,  the 
dear  love  that  is,  the  loyal  and  true  wife  I  know 
very  well  she  would  be. 

Having  finally  come  to  this  well- settled  con- 


i6o  The  Loves  of  a  Lazvyer. 

elusion,  I  gradually  dismissed  from  my  mind  all 
thoughts  of  my  old  love  for  the  dignified  and 
majestic  Frances  Wilkins,  whom  I  met  daily,  and 
in  a  very  friendly  way,  at  her  mother's  house, 
which  continued  to  be  my  home,  and — strange 
to  say — almost  forgot  the  lovely  Mary  Jones. 
Laura,  whom  I  visited  occasionally,  and  with 
whom  I  corresponded  daily,  had  indeed,  and  in 
very  truth,  become  the  sole  idol  of  my  heart. 

So  it  is  that  we  can  govern  and  subject  our 
emotions  and  passions  and  control  ourselves,  if 
we  do  but  exercise  the  will-power  that  is  innate 
within  us,  and  earnestly  follow  out  the  dictates 
of  our  reason  and  our  enlightened  sense  of  duty 
to  ourselves  and  to  others.  Not  that  I  would 
have  you  think  that  my  exclusive  devotion  to 
Laura,  finally,  was  a  mere  matter  of  will  and 
reason — it  was  more  than  that — it  was,  in  addi- 
tion to  these,  the  prompting  of  as  genuine  a  love 
as  ever  inspired  the  heart  of  man.  So  I  thought, 
and  so  I  felt. 


IN  THE  GREAT  CITY. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


IN    THE    GREAT    CITY. 


<2^ 


HAD  occasion  to  go  to  the  great  city  at  the 
(g^  East,  on  business  for  a  client,  in  mid-winter. 
It  was  a  tedious  journey,  and  an  unfortunate 
time  to  be  away  from  home  ;  snow,  cold  weather, 
and  a  general  conspiracy  of  the  atmospheric 
elements  to  render  human  existence  miserable 
anywhere  but  at  home.  When  coming  out  of  the 
vestibule  of  the  post-office  in  the  great  city,  one 
evening,  I  saw  a  tall,  handsome  gentleman  stand- 
ing near  the  door  as  I  was  about  to  go  out  into 
the  street,  and,  stopping,  I  tried  to  think  when 
and  where  I  had  seen  him  before.  I  knew  I  had 
met  him  somewhere,  but  could  not  recall  the 
time  and  place.  Finally,  proceeding  to  the 
door  at  which  he  was  standing,  intently  reading 
a  letter,  I  passed  behind   him,  and  hastily,  per- 


164  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

haps  impudently,  looking  over  his  shoulder  upon 
the  written  sheet  he  held  in  his  hand  as  I  was 
passing  out,  I  instantly  recognized  the  hand- 
writing, and  at  once  identified  the  handsome 
gentleman  as  Mr.  Gentry.  It  was  a  mere  acci- 
dent. The  letter  he  was  reading — I  could  have 
sworn  to  it,  so  well  I  knew  the  chirography — was 
from  Frances  Wilkins. 

I  did  not  stop  to  speak  to  him,  but  going  into 
the  street,  took  a  stroll  through  the  principal 
thoroughfare  of  the  city.  It  was  crowded  with 
people — some  going  to  their  homes  after  the 
day's  labor  and  business — some  on  their  way 
to  places  of  amusement — others,  like  myself, 
strangers,  walking  the  streets  merely  to  pass 
away  time.  Presently  a  party  of  three  gentle- 
men passed  me  hurriedly,  and  I  recognized  Mr. 
Gentry  as  one  of  them.  They  were  fine  looking 
men,  well  dressed,  with  smooth  manners,  but  too 
careless  in  their  talk  to  suit  my  notions  of  gen- 
tlemanly propriety. 

"Look  here,  Gent,"  I  heard  one  of  the  tiio 


In  the  Great  City.  165 

say,  as  they  were  passing  me,  "  why  are  you  so 
glum  to-night?     What's  come  across  you?" 

"  Nothing  of  much  consequence,"  he  replied; 
"only  I've  just  received  a  long  letter  from  a 
sweetheart  of  mine  in  the  country,  and  I  don*t 
exactly  like  the  way  she  writes." 

This  excited  my  curiosity  at  once.  I  accele- 
rated my  pace  so  as  to  keep  near  them. 

''  Love  affair,  eh  ?"  said  one  of  the  other  two  ; 
"  you  ought  to  have  got  over  that  sort  of  thing 
long  ago,  old  fellow.  Love  ?  women  ?  Hum- 
bug!" 

"It  does  look  a  little  like  that,"  replied  Mr. 
Gentry  ;  "  but  if  a  smart,  handsome  country  lass 
gets  too  sharp  for  a  fellow,  it  makes  him  feel 
sort  o'  cheap,  you  know — and  that's  what  ails 
me." 

The  surging,  elbowing,  jostling  crowd,  that 
moved,  like  the  currents  of  two  intermingling 
but  opposing  rivers,  behind  me,  before  me,  an,d 
on  either  side  of  me,  soon  separated  the  trio  of 
well-dressed,  fast-walking  and  loud-talking  gen- 


1 66  T;ic  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

tlemen  from  me,  and  I  heard  no  more  of  their 
conversation  and  lost  sight  of  them. 

It  was  Frances  Wilkins  that  Gentry  alluded  to, 
and  I  wondered  what  it  was  that  that  "  country 
lass"  had  written  to  him.  "He  must  be  a  very 
smart  man,"  I  thought,  "  if  he  can  get  the  start 
of  that  young  lady.  Country  lass  he  may  deem 
her,  but  she  has  more  good  sense  than  the 
majority  of  your  city  flirts — sense  enough,  I'll 
warrant,  not  to  be  easily  captured  by  any  of  your 
flippant  city  beaux." 

This  incident  revived  all  my  old  admiration 
for  Frances.  This  man  Gentry,  I  thought,  has 
sued  for  her  hand,  and  sued  in  vain.  He  may 
be  a  very  handsome  fellow,  very  wealthy  even, 
and  all  that,  but  Frances  Wilkins'  heart  is  not  in 
a  condition  just  now,  nor  just  yet,  to  be  given  to 
a  stranger,  if  to  any  man.  And  there,  in  the 
midst  of  that  great  city,  in  the  midst  of  that 
ever-moving,  ever-pushing  throng  of  humanity, 
on  that  thoroughfare  of  life  and  restlessness,  my 
old    interest  in   Frances  came  back  to  me.      I 


In  the  Great  City.  167 

could  not  help  it — it  was  a  resistless  impulse. 
Mary  Jones  was  nothing  to  me — and,  for  the 
moment,  I  came  near  even  forgetting  my  sacred 
duty  to  Laura. 

"What  a  simpleton  I  am !"  I  exclaimed,  aloud, 
as  I  entered  my  room  that  evening,  in  the  great 
hotel.  "  What  a  fool  not  ^o  be  able  to  dismiss 
this  feeling,  and  concentrate,  once  for  all  and 
unchangeably,  my  love  and  devotion  upon  the 
one  to  whom  my  solemn  vow  has  been  made." 

"  And  who  is  this  man  Gentry }  "  I  asked  my- 
self, as,  thinking  over  the  evening's  events,  I  was 
vainly  trying  to  compose  myself  for  a  good 
night's  sleep,  preparatory  to  my  return  home 
next  day.  "  Who  is  he  that  thus  lightly  talks  to 
his  fellows  in  the  street  about  his  *  sweetheart  in 
the  country.?'  "  I  didn't  like  the  flashy  looks  of 
his  companions,  and  much  less  did  I  like  the 
peculiar  manner  in  which  he  spoke  to  them 
about  that  "  love  letter,"  as  he  called  it. 


A  DOUBLE  WEDDING. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A    DOUBLE    WEDDING. 

ETURNING  home  from  the  great  city, 
^^\  and  burying  myself  in  the  business  of  my 
office,  trying  hard  and  successfully  to  dismiss  all 
thoughts  of  love  and  women  from  my  mind, 
except  as  to  Laura  Ferris,  I  soon  succeeded  in 
becoming  a  complete  master  of  myself.  Laura 
had  now  come  to  be  indeed  the  one  particular, 
only  object  of  my  affections,  and  I  was  a  happy 
man.  This  feeling  and  this  happiness  was  in- 
creased as,  almost  daily,  I  received  tender 
messages  and  epistles  from  her. 

I  met  Joe  Starling  on  the  street  one  day  and 
congratulated  him  upon  his  triumph  in  winning 
Mary  Jones.  He  wanted  to  know  how  I  had 
found  it  out.     I  did  not  tell  him.     ''You  mysti- 


172  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

fied  me  once,  my  boy,"  I  said,  "  and  now  I  will 
be  as  mysterious  as  you  were  then ;  but  although 
I  then  imagine  myself  in  love  with  Mary,  be 
assured,  nevertheless,  that  I  was  quick  to  adopt 
your  advice,  to  marry  Laura.  The  day  is  set, 
Joe,  and  I  invite  you  to  join  a  select  bridal  party 
at  Mr.  Bingle's  one  month  from  to-day." 

'^One  month  from  to-day!"  he  exclaimed. 
"To-day  is  Tuesday — let  me  see!  Why,  Sam, 
that  is  the  very  day  that  Mary  andT  have  set  for 
our  marriage." 

"Is  it  possible?"  I  exclaimed.  "Singular 
coincidence — isn't  it?" 

"  It  is,  indeed  !  but  can't  we  so  arrange  it  as  to 
attend  each  other's  wedding,  Sam  ?" 

And  we  talked  it  over  further,  but  failed  to  see 
how  the  matter  could  be  arranged  or  rearranged 
before  consulting  the  two  ladies  who  were  imme- 
diately concerned. 

I  visited  Laura  a  day  or  two  afterwards,  and 
on  announcing  to  her  the  fact  of  Joe's  and  Mary's 
wedding-day  being  appointed  on  the  same  day  as 


A  Double   Wedding,  173 

ours,  thinking  it  would  be  news  to  her,  she  let  me 
into  the  secret  that  she  and  Mary,  who,  living 
neighbors,  had  always  had  a  good  understanding 
between  themselves,  had  purposely  agreed  upon 
that  day,  thinking  to  surprise  their  prospective 
husbands.  And  she  informed  me,  furthermore, 
that  it  had  been  arranged  between  them  that 
both  parties  should  be  married  at  the  same  hour 
in  the  little  church  on  the  hill,  by  the  same . 
clergyman. 

As  I  had  occasion  to  remark  before,  trust  the 
ladies  for  arranging  things.  Their  ingenuity  for 
arranging  things  is  only  equaled  by  their  intuitive 
appreciation  of  the  fitness  of  things. 

Of  course,  the  very  next  time  that  Joe  saw 
Mary,  she  likewise  disclosed  to  him  the  secret  of 
the  prearranged  double-wedding  day — and  so  it 
was  well  understood  by  both  couples  and  their 
families,  and  by  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  her  daughter 
Frances,  and,  indeed,  the  entire  communities 
both  of  Westerly  and  Trowbridge  soon  knew  of 
it.     How    a    secret,    once    revealed,    flies    and 


174  T^J^(^  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

becomes  a  notoriety  —  especially  when  such 
matters  as  marriage  engagements  and  bridal- 
days  are  involved  therein. 

The  month  soon  passed.  The  double-wedding 
took  place  in  the  little  church  on  the  hill.  It 
was  a  joyous  occasion,  of  course — very  joyous 
and  very  delightful.  A  wedding  in  the  country 
is  always  a  marked  event.  There  is  one  such 
only  at  great  intervals,  and  then  old  and  young, 
as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  personal  duty,  take  a 
part  in  it,  directly  or  indirectly.  -The  little 
church  was  filled.  The  congratulations  were 
many  and  hearty.  Good  old  Deacon  Jones  and 
"^dear  old  Mrs.  Deacon  Jones,  both  as  sedate  as 
Quakers  when  the  ceremonies  were  in  progress, 
became  as  cheerful  and  happy  after  the  solemn 
rites  had  been  performed  as  the  gay-hearted  chil- 
dren who  lingered  around  the  church  porch,  and 
Mr.  Bingle  and  the  feeble  Mrs.  Summerfield, 
Laura's  venerable  grandmother,  fairly  danced 
for  joy  when  congratulating  the  newly-married 
pairs. 


A  Double   Wedding,  175 

"  God  bless  ye,  dear  children,**  said  the  aged 
grandmother,  "  God  bless  ye,  and  give  ye  long, 
happy  and  prosperous  lives,  and  He  surely  will, 
if  ye  be  but  true  to  Him,  to  yourselves  and  to 
each  other.  Oh,  beautiful  spectacle! — one  to 
make  the  very  angels  of  heaven  srrjile — to  see 
four  such  handsome,  likely  and  loving  young 
people  as  ye  are,  starting  out  together  on  a  career 
of  blessedness  !  Bless  ye,  dear  children,  bless 
ye !  " 

The  old  lady's  face  shone  like  that  of  a  sainted 
patriarch  while  she  spoke,  and  the  earnest  kisses 
she  pressed  upon  our  cheeks  seemed  like  sealing 
for  Heaven's  ratification  her  invocation  for  a 
blessing  upon  us. 

And  there  were  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  Frances,  the 
noble  young  woman !  They,  too,  were  warm  in 
their  congratulations,  and  the  latter,  after  kissing 
Laura,  kissed  my  cheek,  and  whispered,  "Oh, 
Sam  !  be  happy,  but  never  forget  me  !'*  "  Never, 
Frances,"  I  whispered  in  reply,  "never  while  I 
have  life.'*     And  she  was  happy — I  could  see  it 


iy6  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

in  her  large,  dark  eyes,  and  a  smile  crept  over 
her  queenly  face  like  a  ray  of  sunshine.  And 
we  were  all  happy  together  there,  in  that  sacred 
little  church  on  the  hill^ — very  happy,  very  joyous 
— very,  very  indeed. 

A  wedding  tour  to  the  West,  and,  after  a 
month's  absence,  our  return  to  Westerly,  and 
then  a  settling  down  into  quiet  homes.  Deacon 
Jones  purchased  a  grand  house  for  his  Mary  and 
her  husband;  and  Laura's  grandmother — dear  old 
soul — gave  my  wife  a  title-deed  to  a  fine  house  in 
the  city — "the  old  homestead,"  she  said,  "in 
which  I  lived  when  I  was  a  bride,  and  in  which 
Laura's  mother  was  born."  And  our  happiness 
did  not  end  with  the  close  of  our  honeymoon — 
oh,  no — it  was  as  continuous  as  the  light  of  the 
sun. 

With  our  final  settling  down  in  a  home  of  our 
own,  the  ardor  of  our  mutual  affections  became 
intensified,  and  our  married  life  became  literally 
a  reciprocity  of  idolatry,  and  all  went  well.  In 
my  profession   I  began  to  prosper  rapidly,  and 


A  Double   Wedding.  177 

the  law  office  of  Samuel  Traverse  gradually 
became  one  of  the .  chief  ones  in  the  city. 
Friends,  clients  and  business  increased  daily,  and 
all  went  well. 

All  went  well,  too,  with  Joe  and  Mary,  who 
were  very  happy — very  devoted — very  blessed. 
12 


THE  FAIR  WEEK. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    FAIR    WEEK. 

J  HERE  was  a  great  fair  week  in  Westerly  in 
the  autumn — one  of  those  annual  assem- 
blages of  the  people  of  a  wide  region  of  country 
to  see  the  gathering  together  of  the  sample 
products  of  stable,  soil,  shop,  factory  and  studio, 
for  which  this  favored  part  of  the  world  is  noted. 
It  was  a  great  week.  The  exhibition  was  mag- 
nificent in  everything  almost  that  the  labor,  skill 
and  ingenuity  of  man  could  produce.  It  was  a 
vast  show  of  animals,  machinery,  vegetable  and 
floral  wonders,  farm  products,  fruits,  woman's 
handiwork,  the  artist's  genius  and  the  artisan's 
skill.  The  city  was  alive  with  people — country 
people  and  village  people,  young  and  old.  They 
came  in  from  the  distance  of  an  hundred  miles. 


1 82  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

in  carriages,  on  horseback  and  on  foot.  The 
country  highways  were  animate  with  comers  and 
goers.  It  was  a  great  week.  The  hotels  and  the 
boarding-houses  of  the  city  were  crowded  to  the 
utmost  capacity  of  their  accommodations,  and 
every  private  house  in  the  town  had  its  guests. 
The  stores  and  the  shops  swarmed  with  people, 
and  the  streets  were  filled  with  flowing  and  inter- 
mingling currents  of  humanity.  It  was  a  grand 
gala-week.  The  extensive  fair  grounds  were 
literally  covered  with  human  beings,  and  the 
great  exhibition  halls  swarmed  like  vast  bee-hives. 
It  was  a  glorious  week  for  Westerly.  The  weather 
was  as  pleasant  and  balmy  as  that  of  an  Italian 
May,  and  the  sky  as  bright  as  that  of  a  tropical 
summer.  A  great  week  it  was  for  the  country 
and  the  town — a  holiday-week — a  week  of  amuse- 
ment and  festivity.  The  men  and  the  women, 
old  and  young — the  children,  and  all — made  it  a 
week  of  unusual  pleasure  and  gayety. 

Mr.    and  Mrs.  Deacon   Jones  came   up  from 
Trowbridge  and  spent  the  week  with  Joe  and 


The  Fair  Week,  183 

Mary,  and  Mr.  Bingle  and  grandmother  Summer- 
field  came  up  and  spent  the  week  with  Laura  and 
I.  And,  one  day,  while  pushing  our  way  through 
the  multitude  at  the  fair  grounds,  Laura  and  I 
and  Joe  and  Mary  and  the  rest  of  us,  all  unex- 
pectedly came  upon  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  Frances, 
under  the  gentlemanly  escort  of  Mr.  Gentry. 
They  were  enjoying  the  sights,  and,  meeting  us, 
stopped  just  long  enough  to  exchange  salutations, 
and  were  soon  lost  in  the  throng  again. 

"That  man  Gentry  I  don't  like,"  I  remarked 
to  Joe.  *'  I  cannot  tell  why,  but  I  am  suspicious 
of  that  fellow,  and  I  don't  like  to  see  him  coming 
to  Mrs.  Wilkins'  house  so  often.'* 

Joe  said  nothing.  It  was  not  the  time  nor 
place  to  discuss  people's  individual  characters. 
We  ourselves,  in  such  a  vast  crowd  as  was  there 
assembled,  felt  like  mere  drops  in  an  ocean.  We 
were  very  small  parts  of  the  big  mass.  Mr. 
Gentry  was  as  large  and  as  small  as  every  other 
one  of  the  crowd,  no  more  and  no  less,  but  I 
could  not  help  feeling  troubled  about  Frances  on 


184  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

his  account.  I  had  a  premonition  that  his 
presence  here  in  Westerly  would  eventually 
cause  trouble.  In  other  words,  I  was  fearful  that 
he  would  gain  the  heart  of  Frances  Wilkins,  and 
after  what  I  had  seen  of  him  and  heard  him  say 
in  the  crowded  thoroughfare  of  the  great  city,  I 
became  distrustful  of  him.  I  feared  that  he  was 
not  a  good  man — not  the  man  for  the  noble 
Frances  Wilkins.  I  mentioned  my  misgivings  to 
Laura  that  day.  "Never  mind,  Sam,"  she  said 
*'  Frances  is  in  no  danger  of  capture  by  a  stranger. 
She  will  never  leap  in  the  dark.  Set  your  mind 
at  rest  in  that  regard." 

"  But  what  is  the  fellow  doing  here  at  this 
time }  Why  does  he  visit  at  Mrs.  Wilkins'  so 
often,  unless  he  meets  with  encouragement.^" 

Laura  did  not  know,  but  still  thought  there 
was  no  danger — that  Frances  knew  what  she  was 
about,  and  that  Mr.  Gentry  must  prove  up  his 
credentials  very  satisfactorily  before  she  could  be 
induced  to  give  herself  to  him. 

The  fair  week  closed.     Our  visitors  departed. 


The  Fair   Week.  185 

The  fair  grounds  and  the  exhibition  halls  were 
deserted.  The  streets  of  the  city  resumed  their 
ordinary,  common-place  aspect.  But  it  had  been 
a  great  week  for  Westerly,  and  for  all  the  country 
round  about. 


A  DEATH-BED  REQUEST 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A    DEATH-BED    REQUEST. 

J  HE  sky  is  bright  and  the  world  beautiful 
to-day ;  to-morrow  come  clouds  and  gloom. 

There  is  no  pain  like  that  of  the  sympathy  and 
anxiety  of  the  loving  heart  when  the  object  of  its 
devotion  lies  prostrate,  helpless  and  suffering  on 
a  bed  of  illness — when  neither  physician  can 
afford  relief  nor  care  or  tenderness  bring  comfort 
or  hope — when  death  threatens  life,  and  your 
very  soul  trembles  in  apprehension  of  the  ap- 
proaching crisis. 

The  second  anniversary  of  our  marriage  had 
scarcely  passed,  when  Laura — my  wife,  my  idol — 
was  attacked  by  a  burning,  consuming,  merciless 
fever.     Day  after  day,  night  after  night,  for  many 


igo  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

weary,  troublous,  anxious  weeks,  we  watched  by 
her  bedside,  helpless  for  her  relief.  She  was 
fading  away.  The  cheek  that  had  been  so  full 
and  fresh,  was  now  sunken  and  pale ;  the  deep 
blue  eye  that  had  shone  with  love  and  life,  was 
now  dull  and  fireless ;  the  form  that  had  been  so 
full  of  life  and  buoyancy,  was  now  a  mere  skele- 
ton— thin,  and  as  helpless  as  that  of  an  infant. 

"What  think  you  now,  doctor.?"  I  asked  of  the 
physician  one  morning,  after  a  sleepless,  restless, 
anxious  night. 

"She  is  dying,  sir — she  is  dying,"  he  said, 
solemnly. 

And  it  was  so.  The  idol  of  my  soul  was  being 
snatched  from  me,  and  I  was  a  gloomy,  wretched 
man. 

"Samuel,"  she  said,  in  a  feeble  whisper,  "I 
am  going — oh,  it  is  so  hard  to  leave  you ;  but 
God's  will  be  dune — God's  will  be  done.  He 
has  always  been  good  to  us,  and  always  will  be." 
She  paused  for  breath,  and  then,  pressing  my 
hand  with  a  final  pressure — it  was  the  last  time, 


A  Death-Bed  Request,  191 

and  I  thought  my  heart  would  break — she  said, 
"Samuel,  my  love,  when  I  am  gone,  seek  another 
wife — one  who  will  be  true  to  you  and  worthy  of 
you.  Marry  Frances,  Samuel — she  loves  you, 
and  will  be  as  true  to  you  as  I  have  been.  Marry 
Frances,  Samuel,  and  God  bless  you  !" 

These  were  her  last  words.  She  folded  her 
snow-white  hands  over  her  breast,  closed  her 
eyes,  and  it  was  all  over.  The  house  that  had 
but  a  few  weeks  before  been  the  home  of  love 
and  joy  and  promise,  was  now  a  house  of  gloom 
and  grief  and  mourning.  Its  very  soul  had  gone 
out — -its  presiding  deity  had  been  snatched  away 
ruthlessly,  cruelly. 

"I  am  alone  in  the  world  once  more — all,  all 
alone;"  thus  I  spake  inconsolably  to  myself,  on 
the  desolate  evening  of  that  day  on  which  we 
consigned  her  precious  form  to  its  last  resting- 
place  in  the  cold,  damp  earth.  "All,  all  alone! 
Oh,  that  I,  too,  could  die,  and  thus  end  this  woe 
and  dreariness  of  soul !" 

It  was  many  weeks  before  I  could  recover  from 


ig2  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

the  cruel  blow  that  had  fallen  upon  me.  My 
grief  was  profound  and  depressing,  and  I  wan- 
dered about,  in  my  office,  in  the  street,  in  my 
desolate  home,  a  gloomy,  wretched  man,  who  felt 
that  he  had  now  nothing  to  live  for — that  he  had 
lost  everything  worth  having  in  this  world,  and 
that  death  was  preferable  to  life. 


THE  OLD  LOVE. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    OLD    LOVE. 


f5)UT  no  man — and  no  woman,  either — can 
nurse  a  great  sorrow  for  a  long  time  and 
live  in  sanity.  Mine  gradually  became  less  a 
burden  ;  by  immersing  myself  in  the  business  of 
my  profession,  I  eventually  conquered  myself, 
and  ceased  to  grieve  like  cne  who  had  lost  all. 

Joe  Startling  was  in  my  office  one  afternoon, 
trying,  as  he  had  so  often  tried  before,  to  console 
and  cheer  me.  It  was  several  months  after 
Laura's  death. 

"  I  this  morning  saw  Mr.  Gentry,"  he  said, 
'*  coming  out  of  Mrs.  Wilkins'  house.  Is  he  still 
a  suitor  for  Frances'  hand  .^" 

Somehow  this  announcement  awoke  me  as  if 
from  a  deep  sleep. 


196  TJie  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

"Mr.  Gentry?  Frances?"  I  said;  "that  can- 
not be,  I  think.  I  do  not  believe  she  would  ever 
marry  him.     Do  you  know  him,  Joe  ?" 

"  I   have   inquired,  and  now  know  who  he  is, 
but  have  no  personal  acquaintance  with  him," 
said  he;  "he  is  not  a  man  for  Frances  Wilkins 
to  marry — that  I  know.     He  is  a — a — gambler —  ^ 
a  professional  sporting  man — an  adventurer." 

"You  astonish  me!"  I  exclaimed.  "It  can- 
not be  that  Mrs.  Wilkins  and  her  daughter  are 
aware  of  his  character.  They  must  be  in- 
formed." 

And  I  instantly  seized  my  hat,  and  leaving 
Joe  at  the  first  street  corner,  hurried  to  Mrs. 
Wilkins'.  I  found  mother  and  daughter  at 
home.  After  preliminary  conversation,  I  sought 
an  opportunity  to  allude  to  Mr.  Gentry. 

"I  understand,"  I  finally  said,  "that  Mr.  Gen- 
try is  in  town  to-day." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkins,  rising,  "he  called 
here  this  morning — it  was  his  first  visit  for 
several  weeks." 


The  Old  Love,  197 

The  mother  then  left  the  room,  and  Frances 
and  I  were  alone — alone  for  the  first  time  since 
the  night  of  that  ordeal  when  she  had  first 
learned  that  Laura  and  I  were  engaged  to  be 
married. 

"Frances,"  said  I,  '' on  the  day  when  Laura 
and  I  were  married,  in  the  little  church  on  the 
hill,  in  Trowbridge,  you  and  I  exchanged  whis- 
pered words — do  you  remember  them  ?" 

"  I  do,  indeed,  and  will  never  forget  them.  I 
then  asked  you  never  to  forget  me,  and  I  do  not 
know  what  spirit  of  good  or  evil  impelled  me  to 
do  so — it  was  hardly  the  proper  thing  to  do 
under  the  peculiar  circumstances.  And  I  re- 
member your  answer — that  you  never  would 
forget  me  while  you  had  life  ;  that  answer  made 
me  very  happy,  Samuel — why,  I  cannot  tell." 

"You  remember,  too,"  I  said,  "the  night  when, 
in  this  very  room,  you  upbraided  me,  with  tears, 
for  having  engaged  myself  to  your  cousin  Laura 
without  intrusting  the  secret  to  you,  who  had 
always  been  a  sister  to  me." 


198  TJie  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

"  I  jemember  it  well — very  well ;  and  I  re- 
member equally  well  what  you  then  said  to  me — 
that  you  would  always  be  as  a  brother  to  me — a 
true  friend,  wherever  or  whatever  we  may  be?** 

"  I  am  glad  you  remember  these  circum- 
stances and  assurances  so  well,  Frances,  because 
I  have  come  now  to  demonstrate  my  brotherly 
and  friendly  interest  in  you.  Pardon  me  if  I  ask 
you  a  delicate  question.  Do  you  love  this  man 
Gentry  ?  Is  there  anything  more  than  ordinary 
friendship  between  you?" 

"  He  appears  to  be  a  very  fine  and  accom- 
plished gentleman,"  she  replied,  "but  I  have 
given  him  no  encouragement,  and  I  do  not  wish 
to  marry.  I  once  had  such  a  thought,  several 
years  ago,  but  it  was  a  girlish  whim,  and  I  then 
dismissed  it,  and  have  never  since  then  had 
occasion  to  change  my  resolution.  But  why  do 
you  ask  me  concerning  Mr.  Gentry?" 

"  Because  I  have  this  day  learned  who  and 
what  he  is,  and  have  deemed  it  my  duty  to  tell 
you.      He    is   a  professional    gambler,    Frances, 


The  Old  Love,  199 

and  I  am  sure  you  would  have  nothing  more  to 
do  with  him  if  you  were  aware  of  the  fact." 

"Are  you  sure  that  that  is  his  business?"  she 
asked,  in  surprise,  her  face  becoming  flushed. 

I  gave  her  my  authority,  and  knowing  that 
Joe  Startling  would  not  repeat  such  a  statement 
unadvisedly,  she  at  once  conceded  the  proba- 
bility of  its  truth,  and  thanked  me  for  the  warn- 
ing, assuring  me  again,  however,  that  there  was 
nothing  serious  between  her  and  Gentry,  and 
that  nothing  was  further  from  her  thoughts  than 
that  of  being  led  captive  by  him.  "There  is 
only  one  man  in  the  world  that  I  have  seen  or 
known,"  she  then  concluded,  "  that  I  have  ever 
dreamed  of  loving,  but,  as  I  said  before,  it  was, 
perhaps,  a  girlish  whim,  merely,  and  I  dismissed 
it  as  soon  as  I  discovered  my  folly." 

As  she  said  this,  she  turned  her  head  away, 
but  I. could  see  a  troubled  look — a  half-sad,  half- 
painful  expression — on  her  face.  A  brief  silence 
followed,  and  as  I  sat  silently  admiring  that 
womanly  figure,  and  studying  the  outlines  of  that 


200  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

queenly  face — a  face  that  a  painter  or  a  sculptor 
would  adopt  as  a  model  of  perfection — a  face 
that  could  be  all  sunshine  at  one  moment,  and 
all  dignified  repose  the  next — whose  formation 
was  like  that  of  a  sculptured  Cleopatra  or  a 
Venus — it  occurred  to  me  suddenly,  as  if  a  flash 
of  light  had  sent  the  thought  into  my  soul,  that, 
possibly,  her  old  love  for  me  was  still  alive,  and 
that  this  is  what  she  meant  by  the  "  girlish 
whim  "  of  former  years  to  which  she  mysteriously 
referred. 

**Tell  me,  Frances,"  I  said,  persuasively, 
**  who  was  the  man  you  refer  to,  whom  you  once 
thought  of  as  a  lover?" 

"  That  is  a  secret  I  can  never  disclose  to  you, 
Samuel;  it  is  the  only  secret  I  can  never  tell 
you." 

''Well,  Frances,"  I  said,  drawing  my  chair 
near  her's,  and  taking  her  hand,  ''  there  is  one 
secret  that  I  have  now  kept  concealed  in  my 
own  bosom  for  months,  which  I  could  not  and 
never  will  tell  to  any  living  soul  except  yourself." 


The  Old  Love,  201 

And  then  I  repeated  to  her  these  dying  words 
of  my  wife:  "Marry  Frances — she  loves  you^ 
and  will  be  as  true  a  wife^  to  you  as  I  have 
been." 

"Oh,  Samuel!"  she  exclaimed,  with  emotion, 
her  whole  face  suddenly  lisjhting  up,  "  Laura 
knew  how  I  " — but  she  abruptly  stopped  there. 

"Well,  what  did  Laura  know?" 

"  I  was  on  the  point  of  revealing  to  you  the 
very  secret  that  I  a  moment  ago  refused  to  tell 
you.  First,  Samuel,  let  me  ask  you  a  question  : 
Have  you  ever  loved  me — could  you,  or  do  you 
now  love  me  ?     Tell  me  honestly,  frankly." 

^'  Frances,"  I  said,  conscious  that  now  candor 
and  plain  speech  were  in  order,  "  at  the  time 
when  Laura  and  I  became  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried, I  was  in  a  painful  quandary  as  to  which  of  . 
you  I  loved  the  more,  and  to  this  day  I  cannot 
decide  which  of  you  I  then  did  love  the  best ; 
but  I  have  often  thought,  and  I  still  think,  that 
it  is  more  than  probable  that,  but  for  my  mis- 
taken supposition  that  you  were  engaged  to  Mr. 


202  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

Gentry,  I  would  have  asked  you  to  become  my 
wife.  I  have  loved  Laura  truly — her  death 
seemed  to  me  the  end  of  everything — and  even 
now,  when  I  permit  myself  to  think  of  her,  and 
of  how  precious  she  was  to  me,  I  become  sad 
and  wretched  under  the  consciousness  of  my 
great  loss.  You  will  not  wonder  at  this,  for  you 
know  "how  true  a  wife  she  was  to  me." 

"  No,  Samuel,  I  honor  your  feelings  in  this 
respect,"  she  said. 

"  Well,"  I  continued,  "  you  ask  me  whether  I 
could  or  do  love  you  now,  Frances.  In  answer 
to  that,  I  here  and  now  offer  you  my  hand,  feel- 
ing and  knowing  that  my  other  love — she  who 
has  been  so  much  and  so  dear  to  me — would^ 
if  she  could  witness  this  scene,  rejoice  and  bless 
us." 

"  You  are  sincere,  Sam — I  see  and  know  and 
feel  that  you  are,"  she  said,  ^'  and  now  I  am 
really,  really  happy — now  I  have  the  wish  of  my 
soul — I  have  you^  dear,  good,  brotherly  Sam — I 
have  you,  whom  I  have  loved  so  long  and  yet  so 


The  Old  Love,  203 

silently.  I  will  now  finish  what  I  had  intended 
to  say — that  Laura  knew  how  I  loved  you — how 
eagerly  I  hoped,  in  that  test  scene  which  she  and 
I  arranged  at  mother's,  years  ago— you  remem- 
ber it — when  we  resorted  to  what  we  deemed  a 
shrewd  device  to  ascertain  which  of  us  two  you 
loved  best — you  would  in  some  way,  by  word  or 
act,  indicate  your  preference  for  me.  It  was  a 
girlish  affair  on  our  part,  I  now  freely  confess  ; 
but  when  you  refused  to  decide,  and  when  after- 
wards I  learned  of  your  visiting  Laura  at  her 
uncle's,  I  despaired,  and  have  been  the  most 
wretched  creature  ever  since.  It  is  all  over  now, 
and,  Samuel,  be  assured  that  Laura's  dying 
words  will  prove  to  have  been  the  truest  words 
that  human  lips  have  ever  uttered.  I  do  love 
you,  and  I  know  I  will  be  a  true  wife  to  you. 
Oh,  Samuel !  God  is  good,  and  He  orders  the 
affairs  of  His  creatures  mysteriously,  but  for  the 
best  at  last." 

It  was  a  rapturous  outburst  of  long  pent-up 
feeling.        Her   every    word,    her  every  tone  of 


204  TJie  Loves  of  a  Lawyer, 

utterance,  the  earnest  expression  of  her  big, 
dark  eyes,  the  warm  pressure  of  her  hands  and 
arms,  convinced  me,  beyond  the  possibility  of 
doubting,  that  Frances  Wilkins  loved  me — and 
instantly,  as  if  the  stone  of  the  sepulchre  of  my 
heart's  buried  affections  had  been  suddenly 
rolled  away  from  the  closed  door,  the  old,  old 
feeling  came  back  to  me — the  old,  old  love — my 
first  love — and  once  again  life  and  love  were 
mine. 

It  is  difficult  to  reconcile  these  changes  of  the 
emotions  and  affections  of  the  human  heart. 
Only  a  few  months  ago — months  of  anguish  and 
dreariness  of  soul — months  of  grieving  and  sor- 
rowing— I  longed  to  go  down  into  the  grave  in 
which  my  precious  Laura  lay  buried,  and  lie  by 
her  side  in  death ;  while  now  life  had  a  new  and 
intensified  charm  for  me.  Those  last  words  of 
the  dear,  dying  wife,  which  at  the  moment  of 
their  utterance  I  regarded  as  not  possible  of  ful- 
fillment, proved  to  be  the  talismanic  sign  which 
resurrected  and  reinspired  a  broken  heart,  and 


The  Old  Love,  205 

restored  the  manhood  of  my  nature  from  its  lost 
estate. 

It  was  only  a  few  months  subsequently  when 
there  was  another  wedding,  at  which  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Joe  Startling,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Deacon  Jones, 
Mr.  Bingle,  the  saintly  old  grandmother,  Mrs. 
Wilkins  and  her  stately  daughter,  my  love  and 
my  bride,  were  present.  And  my  love  and  my 
bride  was  then  and  there — not  in  the  little 
country  church  on  the  hill,  but  in  the  mansion 
of  Samuel  Traverse,  in  Westerly — made  the  wife 
of  Samuel  Traverse  aforesaid,  in  form  and 
manner  as  in  such  cases  made  and  provided  by 
lav/.  Again  there  were  congratulations,  hearty 
and  earnest.  The  good  old  grandmother  again 
invoked  heaven's  blessings,  and  sealed  them 
with  a  kiss.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Deacon  Jones  again 
were  joyful  of  heart.  Mr.  Bingle,  worldly  man 
as  he  was,  when  he  pressed  my  hand,  remarked  : 
"Lawyer  Sam,  Laura  was  a  jewel,  and  now  you 
have  another  treasure  ;  bless  you,  my  boy,  but 
don't  forget  to  come  out  to  Trowbridge  occa- 


2o6  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

sionally."  And  then  Joe  and  Mary— Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Startling — my  ever-faithful  old  chum,  with 
one  of  my  old  loves  clinging  closely  to  his 
arm — came  up  to  Frances  and  I,  and  after  wish- 
ing us  joy,  Joe  was  about  to  say  something 
which  Mary  commanded  him  peremptorily  not 
to,  and  he  didn't;  but  afterwards  he  did.  "I'm 
bound  to  say  it,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  now,  dear, 
don't  be  foolish — I  ivill^  and  here  goes.  Sam, 
next  time  you  go  a  courting  in  the  country,  don't 
take  with  you  a  better  looking  fellow  than  you 
are  yourself — it  isn't  safe."  Mary  blushed — 
Frances  looked  interrogatively — and  the  good 
old  Deacon  Jones,  who  stood  near  by.  and  heard 
what  was  said,  remarked:  "You  trust  Lawyer 
Sam.     He  knows  what  he's  about  all  the  time." 


THE  CONCLUSION. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THE    CONCLUSION. 


^NCE  again  there  was  a  settling  down  into 
the  quiet  of  domestic  comfort.  Once 
again  the  sun  of  hope  and  promise  shone  bright 
in  the  sky.  Once  again  I  was  one  of  the  happi- 
est men  in  the  world. 

My  law  business  continued  to  flourish  amaz- 
ingly. My  friends  soon  became  as  numerous  as 
the  inhabitants  of  Westerly  and  the  region 
round  about.  My  house  was  the  center  of  social 
enjoyment,  and  my  stately,  dark-haired,  dark- 
eyed,  noble-faced,  great-souled  wife  was  beloved 
by  everybody  and  worshiped  by  her  husband. 

All  this  was  long  ago.  We  have  grown  old 
since  then,  but  are  happy  still. 

Have  you,  in  your  wanderings  in  the  region 
14 


2IO  The  Loves  of  a  Laivyer, 

about  Westerly,  within  the  past  decade,  heard  of 
old  Judge  Traverse  ?  Yes,  sir,  old  Judge  Tra- 
verse, whose  opinion  in  matters  of  the  law,  there- 
abouts, is  equal  to  the  "  so  says  the  gospel  "  in 
matters  of  religion?  That  old  fellow  is  me — 
Sam  Traverse — lawyer  that  was,  Judge  of  the 
Circuit  Court  that  is,  and  if  you  should  ever 
chance  to  come  around  there  again,  drop  into 
the  old  Judge's  little  paradise  of  a  home,  see  the 
now  gray-haired  but  still  beautiful  Frances,  and 
share  with  us  the  kindly  gifts  that  a  good  Provi- 
dence has  bestowed  upon  us.  And,  as  like  as 
not,  you  will,  of  a  pleasant  afternoon  or  evening, 
find  there  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Joe  Startling,  as  devoted 
to  each  other  as  of  yore.  They  are  also  among 
the  old  folks  now,  and  we  are  near  neighbors, 
and  all  very  good  people,  who  are  always  glad  to 
see  their  friends.  If  you  desire,  on  some  Satur- 
day afternoon,  we — Joe  and  Mrs.  Joe,  and  Sam 
Mrs.  Sam — will  make  up  a  gay  little  party  for 
you,  and  take  the  cars  for  Trowbridge  Station — 
stop  at  the  hotel  there  over  night — go  and  see 


The  Conclusion.  •      211 

where  good  old  Deacon  Jones  used  to  live — but 
he's  been  dead  these  Jthirty  years,  and  his  sacred 
dust  lies  in  the  grave-yard  back  of  the  little 
church  on  the  hill.  Near  the  graves  of  the 
Deacon  and  his  good  wife,  you  will  also  see 
tombstones  marked  with  the  names  of  Laura's 
sainted  old  grandmother  and  her  daughter, 
Laura's  mother,  and  her  son-in-law,  Mr.  Bingle. 
The  old  churchyard  is  full  of  graves — the  dead 
there  elbow  each  other  as  the  living  do  in  the 
crowded  town.  And  we  will,  if  you  choose, 
attend  service  in  that  little  church  on  the  hill, 
and  mingle  with  the  simple  country  folks  we  will 
find  there — the  men  and  the  women  who,  when, 
nearly  forty  years  ago,  that  eventful  double  wed- 
ding took  place  there,  were  the  little  boys  and 
girls  who  played  around  the  church  porch.  The 
old  folks  of  that  time  are  all  gone — all  gone  ; 
and  even  many  of  the  young  folks  of  that  time 
are  gone — scattered  world-wide,  and  some  of 
them  resting  forever  under  the  sod  which  hides 
the  dead  from  the  living. 


212  The  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

But  Frances  and  I  are  happy  old  folks — this  I 
wish  to  impress  upon  your  mind — we  are  happy, 
very  happy — have  always  been  so— have  always 
been  true  and  devoted  lovers — always — and  as 
the  green  leaf  has  gradually  but  surely  assumed 
a  sear  and  yellow  hue,  our  mated  hearts  have 
become  more  and  more  one  and  the  same  in 
sympathy  and  in  all  things. 

"And  what  became  of  Mr.  Gentry.?"  I  think 
I  hear  you  inquire.  He  died  many  years  ago, 
before  those  black  locks  or  that  dark  beard  of 
his  had  grown  gray — a  convict  in  Sing  Sing. 
Forgery  was  the  accusation.  He  sent  for  me  to 
defend  him  at  his  trial,  but  it  was  a  hopeless 
case.  "  Guilty,"  was  the  verdict  of  the  jury,  and 
that  was  the  last  of  a  very  handsome  but  a  very 
useless  man.  He  died  in  prison,  after  having 
served  a  dozen  years  of  his  term  of  twenty. 
"God  be  praised!"  were  among  the  last  words 
of  old  Mrs.  Wilkins,  my  motherly  mother-in-law, 
when,  thirty  odd  years  ago,  she  gave  her  dying 
blessing   to    her    daughter ;     '*  God  be    praised, 


The  Conclusion,  213 

Frances,  that  you  never  married  that  Mr.  Gen- 
try— it  would  have  been  your  ruin."  The  old 
lady  has  a  monument  over'  her  resting-place — 
the  last  tribute  of  her  daughter  and  her 
daughter's  husband,  and  the  inscription  reads 
thus  :  "  Our  Mother — Gone  to  her  God."  And 
near  her  tomb,  in  an  old  church- yard  at  West- 
erly, there  is  another  monument,  and  the  in- 
scription upon  it  reads  :  "  Laura — Gone  to 
Heaven.     She  withered  and  died,  as  do  the 

FLOWERS  OF  THE  SPRING TOO  SOON;    BUT  God's 

WILL    BE    DONE." 

Frances  and  I  were  walking  in  our  garden  last 
June,  she  leaning  upon  my  arm,  and  I  leaning 
upon  my  friendly  staff,  and  when  we  came  to  a 
certain  row  of  elms  skirting  the  lawn,  she  said : 
**  Sam,  look  there — our  four  children,  when  they 
were  still  quite  young,  planted  those  four  trees,  to 
represent  themselves,  to  see  which  would  do  the 
best  and  live  the  longest,  I  tended  and  watched 
those  trees  when  they  were  small,  very  tenderly 
and  carefully,   as   I  had    those    children.     Now 


214  ^^^^  Loves  of  a  Lawyer. 

see — they  are  all  of  a  size,  and  equally  vigorous, 
with  great,  spreading  branches,  affording  a  grate- 
ful shade  for  you  and  I,  from  the  burning  sun. 
A  good  omen,  my  dear  old  man,  a  good  omen 
for  those  precious  children  of  ours,  now  grown 
to  manhood  and  womanhood." 

It  is  only  necessary  to  remark — excuse  an  old 
man's  tediousness — that  the  oldest  of  those  four 
children  is  thirty-six  and  the  youngest  twenty- 
five.  They  are  all  married,  and  when  their 
families  gather  in  the  old  homestead  at  Westerly, 
as  they  often  do,  then  do  come  there  and  see  us; 
you  will  find  in  our  joyous  company  about  a 
dozen  little  folks,  who  call  Sam  Traverse  and  his 
wife  grandfather  and  grandmother. 

So  goes  the  world  I 


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